| 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 | 5 |
| 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; | 10 |
| 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, | 15 |
| Then chiefly lives. |