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                                                    Fading Beauty                                                                                                                                                                   52
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When snows descend and robe the fields, In winter's bright array; Touch'd by the sun, the lustre fades, And weeps itself away When spring appears; when violets blow, And shed a rich perfume; How soon the fragrance breathes its last! How short liv'd is the bloom! Fresh in the moon, the summer rose Hangs withering ere 'tis noon; We scare enjoy the balmy gift, But mourn the pleasure gone. With gliding fire an evening star Streaks the autumnal skies; Shook from the sphere, it darts away, And, in an instant dies. Such are the charms that flush the cheek. And sparkle in the eye: So from the lovely finish'd form, The transient graces fly. To this the seasons, as they roll Their attestations bring: They warn the fair: their every round

In right margin: Confirms the truth I sing