This ever-unloved vagrant we call weed— <br />Weed only to men that know none her creed, <br />Who, uninformed are of its hardy breed, <br />Nor know virtues lost in the wild arid. <br /> <br />I wish man knew well weeds’ virtuous deeds. <br />Like many amidst us, society’s weeds, <br />Who condemned, uncared, might never succeed, <br />But were not all plants once mere weeds indeed? <br /> <br />The weeds may never pricey homes adorn, <br />But their virtues would never die in vain, <br />Nor languish like an abandoned new-born, <br />Nor like pens that die— love’s labour in pain. <br /> For, no weed’s lost battle nor died broke heart, <br /> Hardy heads live in hope of heady start! <br />_______________________________________________________ <br /> - Sonnets | 03.08.07 |<br /><br />Aniruddha Pathak<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-wild-called-weed/
