Classic Poem

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
—Through 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;

Sowed 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.