The bud will soon become a flower,
The flower become a seed;
Then seize, O youth, the present hour,—
Of that thou hast most need.
Do thy best always,—do it now,—
For in the present time,
As in the furrows of a plough,
Fall seeds of good or crime.
The sun and rain will ripen fast
Each seed that thou hast sown;
And every act and word at last
By its own fruit be known.
And soon the harvest of thy toil
Rejoicing thou shalt reap;
Or o’er thy wild, neglected soil
Go forth in shame to weep.