Henry King (1592–1669)

BRAVE flowers! that I could gallant it like you,

And be as little vain!

You come abroad, and make a harmless show,

And to your beds of earth again!

You are not proud! You know your birth;

For your embroidered garments are from earth!

You do obey your months and times; but I

Would have it ever Spring!

My fate would know no Winter, never die,

Nor think of such a thing!

O, that I could my bed of earth but view,

And smile, and look as cheerfully as you!

O, teach me to see Death, and not to fear;

But rather to take truce!

How often have I seen you at a bier,

And there look fresh and spruce!

You fragrant flowers then teach me, that my breath,

Like yours, may sweeten and perfume my death!