On Flowers, Embroider'd by a Young Lady
This charming Bed of Flow'rs, when FLORA spy'd,
By FLAVIA 's Needle wrought; enrag'd she cry'd,
Still to be vanquish'd by her, is my Doom,
Mine yearly fade, but her's shall ever bloom;
Bloom like her Face, that stings me to the Heart,
Surpass'd in Beauty, as excell'd in Art.
By FLAVIA 's Needle wrought; enrag'd she cry'd,
Still to be vanquish'd by her, is my Doom,
Mine yearly fade, but her's shall ever bloom;
Bloom like her Face, that stings me to the Heart,
Surpass'd in Beauty, as excell'd in Art.
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