sweete rosy leaves

'For that same goodly hew of white and red,
With which the cheekes are sprinckled, shall decay,
And those sweete rosy leaves so fairely spread
Upon the lips, shall fade and fall away
To that they were, even to corrupted clay.
That golden wyre, those sparckling stars so bright
Shall turne to dust, and loose their goodly light.'

'Spenser, Hymne of Love. He goes on to say that love will last forever. From History in English Words by Owen Barfield, 1967.