Monday, June 22, 2009
The poem is one that has been stuck in my head since Grade 5 - probably 25 years ago. Not the entire poem - just three words from it "this supercilious seed". So I did what any modern girl would do - I googled those words and found my long lost poem. Does this poem reflect who I am? In some ways it does - I sometimes criticize things that make me insecure - that is human nature, oui? Am I weed? A weed, just like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder. I'll let you decide.
A little seed lay on the ground
And soon began to sprout,
Now which of all the flowers around
It mused, shall I turn out.
The lily’s face is fair and proud
But just a trifle cold,
The rose I think is rather loud
But then her fashions old.
The violet is all too well
But not the one I’d choose,
Nor yet the
I never cared for blues.
And so it criticized each flower
This supercilious seed,
‘Till it woke one summer hour
And found itself a weed.