The brothers’ related banter…
John: So overall you’re in a good mood?
Hank: I would say I’m in a good mood, yes.
John: Great, because I have a short poem about death for you today.
Hank: Awesome.
John: This was recommended by Kimmie, it’s called Virtue by George Herbert (ehr-BAIR)? Herbert (her-BEHR)? Herbert. We’ll say Herbert.
(Reads poem)
John: Virtue, by George hair bear herb heir Herbert. I’m so good at last names. That was a poem from the uhhhhh 17th century, Hank, I feel like we don’t have enough 17th century poems about death on this podcast.
Hank: Uh, that poem was also about life, and it was also not short.
John: I thought it was pretty short, but anyway, I’m trying to keep my consecutive streak of number of podcasts that I’ve talked more than you alive.
Hank: Ah, I see, I see, you gotta–yeah, I do–I am looking forward to hearing the analysis of last week’s podcast, I have not yet heard who talked more after my attempt to be more verbose.
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Click to read poem
Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright,
The bridal of the earth and sky;
The dew shall weep thy fall to-night,
For thou must die.
Sweet rose, whose hue angry 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 days and roses,
A box where sweets compacted lie;
My music shows ye have your closes,
And all must die.
Only a sweet and virtuous soul,
Like season’d timber, never gives;
But though the whole world turn to coal,
Then chiefly lives.
John Green Reads Poetry 