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Published in The Muses' Delight, 1786.
Lyrics: Anon
How sweet, how graceful pretty Chloris shone,
And what a shorten'd course she had to run;
These violets speak and roses spread around,
Whose bloom is closed when scarce to open found.
But stop, my muse! Reproach not ordered fate,
Nor say that beauty's frail, when 'tis too late:
For bloom eternal, with eternal days,
This seeming fault abundantly repays.
How sweet, how graceful pretty Chloris shone,
And what a shorten'd course she had to run;
These violets speak and roses spread around,
Whose bloom is closed when scarce to open found.
But stop, my muse! Reproach not ordered fate,
Nor say that beauty's frail, when 'tis too late:
For bloom eternal, with eternal days,
This seeming fault abundantly repays.