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