Classic Poem

The flowers spring sweet so near our feet
That most of them come to sorrow.
We pass along, and weak and strong
Lie crushed in the grass to-morrow.

The pearls rest in the ocean's chest,
Yet we know how to seek and find them.
They are pierced when found; to the yoke they're bound:
With a silken cord we bind them.

The stars are wise and dwell in the skies
Remotely and securely.
They light at even the tent of heaven,
And shine for ever purely.