The Useful Weed.

        Do not despise the humble weed,
        For the Lord He first sowed the seed,
        Perhaps it bears most precious fruit,
        And useful leaves and potent root.

        Though it seems now a useless weed,
        Countless millions it yet may feed,
        Or future ages it may prize,
        Finding in it beauteous dyes.

        Or a valued healing balm,
        Will make the heated pulse beat calm,
        And the future men of science,
        May place on it strong reliance.

        And it may play important part,
        In advancing skill and art,
        And no person now doth know
        How useful are the weeds that grow.

        Weeds we now look on with loathing,
        They may yet be used for clothing,
        Producing silken glossy coat,
        Or paper fine for the bank note.

        But you at present must take heed,
        And do not grow the cumbrous weed,
        Either in garden or in field,
        Where plants with profit now do yield.

James McIntyre

James McIntyre was a Canadian poet, most notable for his poetry concerning cheese, cheese-making, dairying, and dairy products. Often referred to as 'The Cheese Poet,' McIntyre's work is celebrated for its earnestness and unintentional humor, making him both a beloved and an infamous figure in literary circles. He emigrated from Scotland to Canada in 1851 and settled in Ingersoll, Ontario, where he became a successful businessman and community leader.

James McIntyre

A Bird's Nest.

James McIntyre, Simple Poetry

Elf Shot.

James McIntyre, Simple Poetry

Patriot Fighting For His Home.

James McIntyre, Simple Poetry

Galt And Dunlop.

James McIntyre, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

Weed Or Flower

    "'Tis but a common thing," one coldly said,
        "Nay, call it not a flower - this little weed,
        If plucking it, I kill it, root and seed -
    Better the world were if it lay there dead."

    "Ah - rather let it live!" a second cried,
        "Weed it may be, and yet it has its use,
        Here in its healing essence its excuse
    For blooming lies, and here its only pride."

    "Destroy it not!" another pled, "Behold
        This tapering leaf - this soft and tender green,
        Upon my canvas it shall bloom serene -
    This tiny chalice-fleck of living gold."

    Then one bent over it, "Ah, flowret bright!
        For only flowers in this garden grow, -
        His earth, His sunshine made thee, o'er thee blow
    His winds, ...

Helen Leah Reed

Of Hidden Uses. from Proverbial Philosophy

The sea-wort floating on the waves, or rolled up high along the shore,
Ye counted useless and vile, heaping on it names of contempt:
Yet hath it gloriously triumphed, and man been humbled in his ignorance,
For health is in the fresliness of its savour, and it cumbereth the beach with wealth;
Comforting the tossings of pain with its violet tinctured essence,
And by its humbler ashes enriching many proud.
Be this, then, a lesson to thy soul, that thou reckon nothing wortliless,
Because thou heedest not its use, nor knowest the virtues thereof.
And herein, as thou walkest by the sea, shall weeds be a    type and an earnest
Of the stored and uncounted riches lying hid in all creatures of God:
There be flowers making glad the desert, and roots fattening the soil,
And jewels in the secret d...

Martin Farquhar Tupper

Garden And Gardener

To weed the Garden of the Mind
Of all rank growths of doubt and sin,
And let faith's flowers thrive and win
To blossom; and, through faith, to find
That lilies, too, can toil and spin,
And roses work for good and right;
That even the frailest flower that fills
A serious purpose, as God wills,
Is all man needs to give him light,
Is all he needs for all his ills.
Here is a Garden gone to flowers
While one beside it runs to weeds
Yet both were sown with similar seeds:
What was it? Did the World, or Hours,
Bring forth according to their needs?
Or was it that the Gardener
Neglected one? or did not care
What growths matured to slay and snare?
Thinking, whatever might occur,
Labour, perhaps, would manage there.
But Labour looked and took his ease,...

Madison Julius Cawein

A Tale Of A Nettle[1]

A man with expense and infinite toil,
By digging and dunging, ennobled his soil;
There fruits of the best your taste did invite,
And uniform order still courted the sight.
No degenerate weeds the rich ground did produce,
But all things afforded both beauty and use:
Till from dunghill transplanted, while yet but a seed,
A nettle rear'd up his inglorious head.
The gard'ner would wisely have rooted him up,
To stop the increase of a barbarous crop;
But the master forbid him, and after the fashion
Of foolish good nature, and blind moderation,
Forbore him through pity, and chose as much rather,
To ask him some questions first, how he came thither.
Kind sir, quoth the nettle, a stranger I come,
For conscience compell'd to relinquish my home,
'Cause I wouldn't subscri...

Jonathan Swift

Wild Oats.

Oh gay young husbandmen would you be sure of a crop
Upspringing rankly, an abundant and bountiful yield?
Go forth in the morning, and sow on your life's broad field
This pleasantly odorous seed, then smooth the ground on top,
Or leave it rough, with the utmost undeceit,
Never you fear, it will thriftily thrive and grow,
Loading the harvest plain beneath your feet,
With the ripened sheaves of shame, remorse, and woe.

You have but to sow the seed, no care will it want,
For he who soweth tares while the husbandman sleeps
Taketh unwearied pains, a vigilant guard he keeps
Tirelessly watching, and tending each evil plant.
These are his pleasure gardens, leased to him through time
Where he walketh to and fro, chanting a demon song;
Tending with ghastly fingers, the scarl...

Marietta Holley

The Weed

A weed is but an unloved flower!
    Go dig, and prune, and guide, and wait,
    Until it learns its high estate,
And glorifies some bower.
    A weed is but an unloved flower!

All sin is virtue unevolved,
    Release the angel from the clod -
    Go love thy brother up to God.
Behold each problem solved.
    All sin is virtue unevolved.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox