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The Noble Nature

     It is not growing like a tree
     In bulk, doth make man better be;
Or standing long an oak, three hundred year,
To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sere:
          A lily of a day
          Is fairer far in May,
     Although it fall and die that night--
     It was the plant and flower of Light.
In small proportions we just beauties see;
And in short measures life may perfect be.

                             ~Ben Jonson~


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This page contains a single entry by Carol published on May 5, 2012 11:20 AM.

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