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1 " Evening PrimroseWhen once the sun sinks in the west,And dewdrops pearl the evening's breast;Almost as pale as moonbeams are,Or its companionable star,The evening primrose opes anewIts delicate blossoms to the dew;And, hermit-like, shunning the light,Wastes its fair bloom upon the night,Who, blindfold to its fond caresses,Knows not the beauty it possesses;Thus it blooms on while night is by;When day looks out with open eye,Bashed at the gaze it cannot shun,It faints and withers and is gone. "
― John Clare , Poems Descriptive of Rural Life and Scenery
2 " How frail the bloom, how short the stayThat terminates us all!Today we flourish green and gay,Like leaves tomorrow fall. "
3 " And what is Life?—An hour-glass on the run,A mist retreating from the morning sun,A busy, bustling, still repeated dream;Its length?—A minute’s pause, a moment’s thought;And happiness?—A bubble on the stream,That in the act of seizing shrinks to nought. "