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The Wild Hoenysuckle--by Philip Morin Freneau
Fair flower, that dost so comely grow
Hid in this silent, dull retreat,
Untouched thy honied blossoms blow,
Unseen thy little branches greet
No roving foot shall crush thee here,
No busy hand provoke a tear
By Nature's self in white arrayed
She bade thee shun the vulgar eye
And planted here the guardian shade,
And sent soft waters murmuring by
Thus quietly thy summer goes
Thy days declining to repose
Smit with those charms, that must decay
I grieve to see your future doom;
They died—nor were those flowers more gay
The flowers that did in Eden bloom;
Unpitying frosts and Autumn's power Shall leave no vestige of this flower
From morning suns and evening dews
At first thy little being came
If nothing once, you nothing lose,
For when you die you are the same
The space between is but an hour,
The frail duration of flower.
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