| Lyrics: | They that have power to hurt and will do none,
That do not do the thing they most do
show,
Who, moving others, are themselves as stone,
Unmoved, cold, and to temptation
slow,
They rightly do inherit heaven's graces
And husband nature's riches from
expense;
They are the lords and owners of their faces,
Others but stewards of their
excellence.
The summer's flower is to the summer sweet,
Though to itself it only live and
die,
But if that flower with base infection meet,
The basest weed outbraves his
dignity:
For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds;
Lilies that fester smell
far worse than weeds. |
