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.

- Tennyson.