The Common Fate Of All Things Rare

Go, lovely rose!
Tell her that wastes
her time and me
That now she knows,
When I resemble her to thee,
How sweet and fair
she seems to be.

Tell her that's young,
And shuns to have
her graces spied,
That hadst thou sprung
In deserts,
where no men abide,
Thou must have
uncommended died.

Small is the worth
Of beauty from the light retired;
Bid her come forth,
Suffer herself to be desired,
And not blush so to be admired.

Then die! that she
The common fate of all things rare
May read in thee;
How small a part of time they share
That are so wondrous sweet and fair!

--Edmund Waller (1606--1687)