While gentle Zephire, warmes the tender spring

WHILE gentle Zephire, warmes the tender spring,
And Flora glads all creatures at her sight:
The Almond-trees, ere any leaues they bring,
Vnfold their pride, their blossomes red and white:
But withered soone, vnto the ground they fall,
Or yeild their fruite, the least and last of all.

So many children in their tender yeares,
Doe promise much by towardlines of wit,
From such, yet seldome any fruite appeares
When as some plodder, that below doth sit,
Of whome both frendes, and maister did dispaire,
As hindmost hound doth soonest catch the Hare.