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.

Goodness

Melting daytime, so cool, quiet, beautiful!
Match faultlessly between heaven and earth!
Today the dew of night will weep for your die;
Because you must leave.
Beautiful rose, colour and lustre is ruddy and gorgeous,
Your hasty and the person mop that pass looks and inspect,
Your root is plunged into forever in graveyard,
And you must die.
Wonderful spring, was full of good time and balmy rose,
Be like the box that a fragrance brims over with,
My music shows you also have stop,
Everythings on earth gets pass.
Only good and just heart,
Be just as dry spare timber, never go out of form;
Even if whole world turns into cindery,
It still time excessive colour.


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