I have handsome leaves, and my stalk is tall,
And my flowers are prettily yellow;
Yet nobody thinks me nice at all:
They think me a tiresome fellow—
An ugly weed
And a rogue indeed.
For wherever I happen to spy,
As I look around,
That they’ve dug their ground,
I say to my seeds “Go, fly!”
And because I am found
On the nice soft ground,
A trespassing weed am I!