Virtue And Truth Immortal Poem by John Bowring

Short is the reign of summer flow'rs-
O'er fruitful vale or fertile plain
We seek in winter's dreary hours
One solitary flow'r in vain.


The verdant wood, the smiling hill,
Alike in darksome robes are clad:
Their beauty fled, their music still;
And all is silent, all is sad.


Has earth no charms beyond the power
Of mournful change? Yes! Virtue's bloom
And Truth's imperishable dower
Are not subjected to the tomb.


These will I hold: the wintry shade
May circle nature-and the songs
Of summer cease-its flow'rets fade-
To these eternity belongs.