A Brief Response to George Herbert's Poem: "Virtue"

 Virtue

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.

George Herbert's poem is a testament to his time period: a time when the physical realm was seen as something of evanescent beauty, and Death was an ever-present specter.  In this world, in which the human body, despite its splendor, was seen as another decaying reality, the spirit became mans claim to the immortal, and upon that notion rested the sanction for his entire existence. The world, as Herbert seems to convey, is a secondary concern; matters of the spirit are much more important. One is forced to wonder whether this is a correct view to hold; whether, it is right to bet ones chips on immortality that may never manifest and abnegate the recognition that while beauty in the physical realm dies, it is also reborn. Herbert chooses the former world view and closes each line discussing physical beauty with “must die.” He references day and night, the life and death of a rose, and the changing of seasons, never once taking note that the ephemeral is the eternal; that where one flower wilts, another takes its place. This blindness stems, quite naturally, from Herbert’s fear of death. He can’t reconcile death with life, and hopes the soul will allow him break free of the bonds that hold the other forms of life on Earth: “…though the whole world turns to coal, Then (the spirit) chiefly lives.” I personally agree with Herbert, that the “vertuous soul…never gives.” However, unlike him, I can recognize that while Death may be lurking around every corner, it hasn’t found me yet, and I certainly don’t need to wait for it to find eternal beauty. Immortality exists here, now.

-L.C.