TOO soon so fair, fair lilies; br To bloom is then to wane; br The folded bud has still br To-morrow at its will; br Blown flowers can never blow again. br br Too soon so bright, bright noontide; br The sun that now is high br Will henceforth only sink br Towards the western brink; br Day that's at prime begins to die. br br Too soon so rich, ripe summer, br For autumn tracks thee fast; br Lo, death-marks on the leaf! br Sweet summer, and my grief; br For summer come is summer past. br br Too soon, too soon, lost summer; br Some hours and thou art o'er. br Ah! death is part of birth: br Summer leaves not the earth, br But last year's summer lives no more.