The Flower

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.