Mountains and flowers

The little flower always smiled,
It always did smile,
With love it lived.
Never did it see  the dark,
Never did it love death,
Never did it stop the smile.
So many did trample,
The same people that lived.
They lived,
They sang,
True they were,
But they always did walk.
For even a flower learns.
Even a mountain learns,
A flower not so much,
For fewer times does a boot harm,
A mountain stands to be trod.