Alfred Lord Tennyson
Once in a golden hour I cast to earth a seed. Up there came a flower, The people said, a weed.
To and fro they went Thro’ my garden-bower, And muttering discontent Cursed me and my flower.
Then it grew so tall It wore a crown of light, But thieves from o’er the wall Stole the seed by night.
Sow’d it far and wide By every town and tower, Till all the people cried `Splendid is the flower.’
Read my little fable: He that runs may read. Most can raise the flowers now, For all have got the seed.
And some are pretty enough, And some are poor indeed; And now again the people Call it but a weed.