Plants and Men

You berries once,

In early hours,

Were pretty buds,

And then fair flowers.

Drop, drop at once,

Your life is done;

You cannot feel

The dew or sun.

We are the same,

First buds, then flowers;

Hard berries then,

In our last hours.

Sweet buds, fair flowers,

Hard berries then—

Such is the lite

Of plants and men.