He who sows corn hopes not for cornflowers too:

He works for food and need and profit from the grain.

But still the flower appears and mingles with the corn

Like uninvited guests, unbidden to the feast

Who enter in unasked and place themselves for show,

And look as happy, although lighter than the rest.

The others wish them gone, but if they, with their grace

Bring joy unto the feast, then they become accepted.

The cornflower in the field is profitless, but still

They lend, without denial, some beauty to the corn.

They stand amongst the stalks, like noble children seen

On Easter morning, clothed in blue and scarlet silk.

A weed, but of the best, most pleasing and most fine

And sweet and innocent, no poison in it lies.

And for such merchandise I sell my cornflowers now,

My kitchen-herbs or weeds, my reader may decide

What name to give them. They were never sown

In the corn-acres where I sow and reap,

They are a gift of nature and the land; the corn,

Has nursed them into being. The good will gladly hear,

The bad must hear it now: amidst the restless press

Of Court's and Land's affairs, I have for many years

(As the Boat guides the Ship) being faithful in small things,

Helped to raise the heads of those who were bowed down:

And I for Church and Land have laboured constantly.

Have done what many know of, but not everyone;

Have done what few men, but not every man could do

(And thanks are still to come): I have put strength and patience

Against great obstacles, being strengthened by God's hand,

Have broken through tough thorns, incurring no disgrace.

These works I call my harvest, these are my best corn

Grown for the common good, and they therefore not lost,

And they therefore so spent, as every citizen

Still stands his country's debtor, in good years or in bad.

What extra crop of flowers my cornfield has produced

If any one would know it, here is written down.

I place my cornflowers here, and stand their stems in ink,

Raed, dien ick tegen ‘tvroegh verleppen heb versint.