Why came I so untimely forth Into a world which, wanting thee, Could entertain us with no worth Or shadow of felicity? That time should me so far remove From that which I was born to love. Yet, fairest blossom, do not slight That age which you may know so soon; The rosy morn resigns her light, And milder glory to the noon: And then what wonder shall you do, When dawning beauty warns us so? Hope waits upon the flowery prime, And summer, though it be less gay, Yet is not looked on as a time Of declination and decay. For with a full hand that does bring All that was promised by the spring.