Classic Poem

Passing along life's dusty road,
To rest a weary hour,
I've loved to pause, and turn aside
To pluck some simple flower.

It may be weeds I've gathered too;
But even a weed may be
As fragrant as the fairest flower
With some sweet memory.

But, if my flowers and grasses have
No beauty to your eye,
Think they may speak to other hearts,
And gently pass them by.