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William Wordsworth - Foresight
Work rating: Low

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!
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