Robert Herrick
Fair Daffodils, we weep to see
        You haste away so soon;
As yet the early-rising sun
        Has not attain’d his noon.
                       Stay, stay,
               Until the hasting day
                       Has run
               But to the even-song;
And, having pray’d together, we
Will go with you along.
 
We have short time to stay, as you,
        We have as short a spring;
As quick a growth to meet decay,
        As you, or anything.
                       We die
               As your hours do, and dry
                       Away,
               Like to the summer’s rain;
Or as the pearls of morning’s dew,
Ne’er to be found again.
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