Classic Poem

Fair is the rose, yet fades with heat or cold.
Sweet are the violets, yet soon grow old.
The lily 's white, yet in one day 'tis done.
White is the snow, yet melts against the sun.
So white, so sweet was my fair mistress' face,
Yet altered quite in one short hoür's space.
So short-lived beauty a vain gloss doth borrow,
Breathing delight to-day, but none to-morrow.