Vertue: I. Vertue
Judith Weir
"Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright
The bridle 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 seasoned timber, never gives
But though the whole world turn to coal
Then chiefly lives"
