Foresight
That is work of waste and ruin--
Do as Charles and I are doing!
Strawberry-blossoms,one and all,
We must spare them--here are many:
Look at it--the flower is small,
Small and low,though fair as any:
Do not touch it!summers two
I am older,Anne,than you.
Pull the primrose,sister Anne!
Pull as many as you can.
--Here are daisies,take your fill;
Pansies,and the cuckoo-flower:
Of the lofty daffodil
Make your bed,or make your bower;
Fill your lap,and fill your bosom;
Only spare the strawberry-blossom!
Primroses,the Spring may love them--
Summer knows but little of them:
Violets,a barren kind,
Withered on the ground must lie;
Daisies leave no fruit behind
When the pretty flowerets die;
Pluck them,and another year
As many will be blowing here.
God has given a kindlier power
To the favoured strawberry-flower.
Hither soon as spring is fled
You and Charles and I will walk;
Lurking berries,ripe and red,
Then will hang on every stalk,
Each within its leafy bower;
And for that promise spare the flower!
----William Wordsworth