Droop, droop no more, or hang the head Ye Roses almost withered; Now strength, and newer Purple get, Each here declining Violet. O Primroses! let this day be A Resurrection unto ye; And to all flowers ally'd in blood, Or sworn to that sweet Sister-hood: For Health on Julia's cheek hath shed Clarret, and Creame commingled. And those her lips doe now appeare As beames of Corrall, but more cleare. |