3Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright,
4The bridal of the earth and sky;
5The dew shall weep thy fall tonight,
6For thou must die.
8Sweet rose, whose hue angry and brave
9Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye;
10Thy root is ever in its grave,
11And thou must die.
13Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses,
14A box where sweets compacted lie;
15My music shows ye have your closes,
16And all must die.
18Only a sweet and virtuous soul,
19Like seasond timber, never gives;
20But though the whole world turn to coal,
21Then chiefly lives.