Honesty

There is a valued, though a stubborn weed,
That blooms but seldom, and is found, but rare,
In sunless places, where it cannot seed —
Would Earth, for truth's sake, had more room to spare!
Cant hates it — hypocrites condemn — the herd
Seeking self-interest frown, and pass it by:
'Tis trampled on — 'tis bantered. Undeterred,
Though scoffed at, mocked at, yet it doth not die;
But like a diamond for a century lost,
Buried in darkness and obscurity,
When found again, it loses not in cost,
But keeps its value and its purity,
By time unsullied — still the prince of gems,
And first of jewels in all diadems.