When once the sun sinks in the west, And dewdrops pearl the evening¡¯s breast;
Almost as pale as moonbeams are, Or its companionable star,
The evening primrose opes a new its delicate blossoms to the dew And, hermitlike, shuning the light,
Wastes its fair bloom upon the night;
Who, blindfold to its fond caresses Knows not the beauty her possesses,
Thus it blooms on while night is by; When day looks out with open eye, ¡®Bashed at the gaze it cannot shun,
It faints and withers and is gone.

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