In darkness I lie, buried in earth in seasons past. I may lie sleeping for years before springing to life. When warmed by sol I will arise. My strength, size, and fame will outstrip my humble origins. I may feed the honey bee, aid the physician, or delight the lover. My beauty may touch old men and maidens, boys and old crones. I will die before my own offspring live. Bird or rot may claim me yet, before my glory is revealed. What am I?