Lives.

VIRTUE

Sweet 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. 

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

For Jessica, with Love.