F LORA'S Daughters, born of Spring,
Breathe upon the Zephyr's wing!
Fresh, and with a Lover's care,
Waft your incense to the Fair!
In your tribute, and in you,
She can one attraction view;
One that emulates her own,
And is very little known.
One that she to Fame prefers,
Though its brightest gift is hers;
One — for prouder beauties meant,
'Tis that you are innocent .
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