The Golden Ear-ring, or, Autumnal Leaf

Go to the glass, dear Bella, go, And see what morals you sustain, Can fashion shield the heart from woe, Or palliate a growing pain.

While pendant, hanging on the ear, The golden bauble charms the eye, An emblem of the waneing year, Say, who can tell the year we die.

A trifle sometimes yields relief, But shou'd reflection chance to rise, We shudder at the yellow leaf, And fall, to Time, a sacrifice.