To a bed of tulips

Bright tulips, we do know

You had your coming hither,

And fading-time does show

That ye must quickly wither.

Your sisterhoods may stay,

And smile here for your hour;

But die ye must away,

Even as the meanest flower.

Come, virgins, then and see

Your frailties, and bemoan ye;

For, lost like these, 'twill be

As time had never known ye.