Ephemera die all at sunset, and no insect of this class has ever
sported in the beams of the morning sun. Happier are ye, little human
ephemera! Ye played only in the ascending beams, and in the early dawn,
and in the eastern light; ye drank only of the prelibations of life;
hovered for a little space over a world of freshness and of blossoms;
and fell asleep in innocence before yet the morning dew was exhaled!