I.
Consider, Flora! Age will come,
And on You lay his icy Hand,
Which, even Beauty can't withstand:
Eternal Fate has so decreed;
The Roses which are now in Bloom,
Must leave your Cheeks;--nor in their Room
Will other Roses e'er succeed.

II.
Those Eyes which dull the Diamond's Ray,
Where all the Loves and Graces play,
Their Glories lost, shall dimly move,
Without one Grace, or single Love;
And strive in vain to raise Desire,
Tho' now they set the World on Fire.

III.
Then, meet the Lover, while You may,
With equal Ardor fill his Arms,
And bless him with complying Charms.
Swift roll the Years:--no more Delay;
For Youth prepares to wing away.

IV.
Beauty which has attain'd its Prime,
Begins to fade and wither soon:
O! wisely use the precious Time!
For Night comes quickly after once 'tis Noon.