Upon Julia's Recovery

Droop, droop no more, or hang the head,Ye roses almost withered;Now strength and newer purple get,Each here declining violet.O primroses! let this day beA resurrection unto ye;And to all flowers ally'd in blood,Or sworn to that sweet sisterhood:For health on Julia's cheek hath shedClaret and cream commingled;And those her lips do now appearAs beams of coral, but more clear.