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Poem	The trees in the garden rained flowers. Children ran there joyously. They gathered the flowers Each to himself. Now there were some Who gathered great heaps -- Having opportunity and skill -- Until, behold, only chance blossoms Remained for the feeble. Then a little spindling tutor Ran importantly to the father, crying: "Pray, come hither! See this unjust thing in your garden!" But when the father had surveyed, He admonished the tutor: "Not so, small sage! This thing is just. For, look you, Are not they who possess the flowers Stronger, bolder, shrewder Than they who have none? Why should the strong -- The beautiful strong -- Why should they not have the flowers?" Upon reflection, the tutor bowed to the ground, "My lord," he said, "The stars are displaced By this towering wisdom."
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