“A Little Seed”

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 Canterbury bell

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.

Author Unknown.