VIRTUE
by: George Herbert (1593-1632)
- WEET day,
so cool, so calm, so bright!
- The bridal of the earth and sky--
- The dew shall weep thy fall to-night;
- For thou must die.
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- Sweet rose, whose hue angry and brave
- Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye,
- Thy root is ever in its grave,
- And thou must die.
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- Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses,
- A box where sweets compacted lie,
- My music shows ye have your closes,
- And all must die.
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- Only a sweet and virtuous soul,
- Like season'd timber, never gives;
- But though the whole world turn to coal,
- Then chiefly lives.
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