Virtue赫伯特

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 seasoned timber, never gives

But though the whole world turn to coal

Then chiefly lives.