The Noble Nature
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By Ben Johnson

It is not growing like a tree
In bulk, doth make man better be;
Or stand long an oak; three hundred year,
To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sere:
A lilly 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...