The trees in the garden rained flowers. <br />Children ran there joyously. <br />They gathered the flowers <br />Each to himself. <br />Now there were some <br />Who gathered great heaps -- <br />Having opportunity and skill -- <br />Until, behold, only chance blossoms <br />Remained for the feeble. <br />Then a little spindling tutor <br />Ran importantly to the father, crying: <br />"Pray, come hither! <br />See this unjust thing in your garden!" <br />But when the father had surveyed, <br />He admonished the tutor: <br />"Not so, small sage! <br />This thing is just. <br />For, look you, <br />Are not they who possess the flowers <br />Stronger, bolder, shrewder <br />Than they who have none? <br />Why should the strong -- <br />The beautiful strong -- <br />Why should they not have the flowers?" <br />Upon reflection, the tutor bowed to the ground, <br />"My lord," he said, <br />"The stars are displaced <br />By this towering wisdom."<br /><br />Stephen Crane<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-trees-in-the-garden-rained-flowers/
