Fair flower, that dost so comely grow,

Hid in this silent, dull retreat,

Untouched thy honied blossoms blow,

Unseen thy little branches greet:

No roving foot shall crush thee here,

No busy hand provoke a tear.


By NatureÂs self in white arrayed,

She bade thee shun the vulgar eye,

And planted here the guardian shade,

And sent soft waters murmuring by;

Thus quietly thy summer goes,

Thy days declining to repose.


Smit with those charms, that must decay,

I grieve to see your future doom;

They diedÂnor were those flowers more gay,

The flowers that did in Eden bloom;

Unpitying frosts and AutumnÂs power

Shall leave no vestige of this flower.


From morning suns and evening dews

At first thy little being came;

If nothing once, you nothing lose,

For when you die you are the same;

The space between is but an hour,

The frail duration of flower.

The Wild Honeysuckle

by Philip Freneau