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.