Volume 1 — EARLY RISING.
Reading edition
Did you but know, when bathed in dew, How sweet the little violet grew, Amidst the thorny brake; How fragrant blew the ambient air, O'er beds of primroses so fair, Your pillow you'd forsake. Paler than the autumnal leaf, Or the wan hue of pining grief, The cheek of sloth shall grow; Nor can cosmetic, wash, or ball, Nature's own favorite tints recall, If once you let them go. Herrick.