“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
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.
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