Two scions sprung among the fennels of the countryside
They bid their own welcome because fennels say little to scions
These scions were of a sturdy stock themselves
Though new compared to the old stiff necked forrest
They were wise beyond their years
The scions grew as the seasons passed
Some slender stalks bowed their heads and withered
Others rigidly weathered the storms of cloud and stream
One day in the spring the fennels of the highest stalk
Noticed a shadow of leaf and trunk across their tethers
The scions had grown rapdily as the days had passed
The scions were tall, evergreen and entwined
They would never bow their heads as the fennels
Or become uprooted by cold rivulets
They had grown intrepid and wise
Knowing that
Persistence is the mother of success
And passion is her handmaiden.
George Murdock
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/nimal/
