Thursday, 14 April 2016

The Thursday Poem

Potted Flowers with Books IV
Eric Barjot

Virtue

Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright!
The bridal of the earth and sky -
The dew shall weep thy fall tonight;
For thou must die.

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.

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.

Only a sweet and virtuous soul,
Like season'd timber, never gives;
But though the whole world turn to coal,
Then chiefly lives.

George Herbert
(3rd April 1593 - 3rd March 1633)

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