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

የሰው ትክክለኛ መስፈርት

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