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A FLOWER GARDEN.
Tell me, ye Zephyrs ! that unfold,
Say, when the moving Creatures saw
Did wanton Fawn and Kid forbear
The half-blown Rose, the Lily spare ?
Or peeped they often from their beds
It falls not here on bud or bloom.
All Summer long the happy Eve
Is rendered vain as love for great.
Yet, where the guardian Fence is wound,
And, though the jealous turf refuse
By random footsteps to be prest,
Ye, gentle breezes from the West,
With all the ministers of Hope,
And hither throngs of Birds resort; Some, inmates lodged in shady nests, Some, perched on stems of stately port That nod to welcome transient guests ; While Hare and Leveret, seen at play, Appear not more shut out than they.
Apt emblem (for reproof of pride)
This delicate Enclosure shows
Of modest kindness, that would hide