Bright Tulips, We Do Know You Had Your Coming Hither, And Fading-Time Does Show That Ye Must Quickly Wither. Your Sisterhoods May Stay, And Smile Here For Your Hour; But Die Ye Must Away, Even As The Meanest Flower. Come, Virgins, Then, And See Your Frailties, And Bemoan Ye; For, Lost Like These, 'Twill Be As Time Had Never Known Ye.