Sweet Roses Poem by gershon hepner

Sweet roses’ hues are bright and pleasant
but from branches once they’re torn
we must quickly seize the present,
for they’ll never be reborn.
Trees are lovely while they’re standing,
but when timber is the goal
I see death in their crash landing,
paper, furniture and coal.
Days are cool and bright and calm
till the sun sets, as it must;
hard sometimes to see our charm,
destined all to turn to dust.

Inspired by George Herbert’s “Vertue”

SWEET day, so cool, so calm, so bright,
The bridall of the earth and skie:
The dew shall weep thy fall to-night;
For thou must die.

Sweet rose, whose hue angrie 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 dayes and roses,
A box where sweets compacted lie,
My musick shows ye have your closes,
And all must die.

Onely a sweet and vertuous soul,
Like season'd timber, never gives;
But though the whole world turn to coal,
Then chiefly lives.