When I peer closely, I can see you there
Your tiny head pokes out above the ground
Your fight against the world is newly found,
As men will question, “How much will you bear?”
Your coiled shoots will sprout before my eyes
And buds appear between each unfurled leaf
How ripe and bright, until the set of grief
For withered stems, and fruit that falls and dies.
Now, who on earth can measure your great worth?
Thy fruitful purpose coming to a close
Some men might say you live for them- not so.
No, you, like us, are more than days from birth
To death. But though from fruit we often stray,
You stay to grow, and love each sunny day.