I was walking in the woods
Just on a whim of mine,
And seeking nothing,
That was my intention.
In the shade I saw
A little flower standing
Like stars glittering
Like beautiful little eyes.
I wanted to pick it
When it said delicately:
Should I just to wilt
Be picked?
I dug it out with all
Its little roots.
To the garden I carried it
By the lovely house.
And replanted it
In this quiet spot;
Now it keeps branching out
And blossoms ever forth.
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe