Classic Poem

I T'S foolish to bring money
To any spring wood,
Jewels won't help you,
Gold's no good.

Silver won't buy you
One small leaf.
You may bring joy here,
You may bring grief.

You should look for
Tufted moss,
Marked where a light foot
Ran across.

Where the old rose hips
Shrivel brown
And dried clematis
Bloom hangs down.

There you'll find what
Everyman needs,
Wild religion
Without any creeds,

Green that lifts its
Blossoming head,
New life springing
Among the dead.

You needn't bring money
To this market place,
Or think you can bargain for
Wild flower grace.