Withering

Fade, tender lily,
  Fade, O crimson rose,
Fade, every flower,
  Sweetest flower that blows.

Go, chilly autumn,
  Come, O winter cold;
Let the green stalks die away
  Into common mold.

Birth follows hard on death,
  Life on withering:
Hasten, we will come the sooner
  Back to pleasant spring.