Beauty is but a vain and doubtful good
A shining gloss that fadeth suddenly,
A flower that dies when first it 'gins to bud,
A brittle glass that's broken presently,
A doubtful good, a gloss, a glass, a flower,
Lost, faded, broken, dead within an hour.
And as goods lost are seld' or never found,
As faded gloss no rubbing will refresh,
As flowers dead lie withered on the ground,
As broken glass no cement can redress,
So beauty blemished once, forever lost,
In spite of physic, painting, pain and cost.
Attributed to Shakespeare in The Passionate Pilgrim, an anthology of 20 poems collected by W Jaggard in 1599, but not authenticated.
Small rose, flower about an inch long.
Beauty is but a vain and doubtful good
A shining gloss that fadeth suddenly,
A flower that dies when first it 'gins to bud,
A brittle glass that's broken presently,
A doubtful good, a gloss, a glass, a flower,
Lost, faded, broken, dead within an hour.
And as goods lost are seld' or never found,
As faded gloss no rubbing will refresh,
As flowers dead lie withered on the ground,
As broken glass no cement can redress,
So beauty blemished once, forever lost,
In spite of physic, painting, pain and cost.
Attributed to Shakespeare in The Passionate Pilgrim, an anthology of 20 poems collected by W Jaggard in 1599, but not authenticated.
Small rose, flower about an inch long.