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presents
Flowersby C.S. Taylor
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A woodland sprite, of the rakish kind, Suddenly made up his mind That he'd been so good all through the day He'd find a garden in which to play. He flittered around from flower to flower, And told them love tales by the hour; But the posies tired and sought repose, All but one little, budded rose. And she, poor silly little dear, Turned to the sprite a willing ear. He kissed her velvet pin-white lips, And smoothed her dress with his finger tips; He flattered her gown, admired her taste From her moss-green cap to her sylphlike waist. Then what did the silly rosebud do? Why, she laid her head on the sprite's broad chest And then, ah well, you know the rest... It was the same old story, in a different light For the bud gave birth to the rose that night.  Who thought so much of his selfish self But he did the manly, spritely thing And presented the bud with a wedding ring; And now, instead of one, they say The little bud was a whole bouquet. |   |
dandelions
DANDELIONS .....dandelions...by Maureen O'Brien
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Dandelions, green and golden, Stubbornness in every shoot; Dandelions toothed and jagged, Twelve feet down, joined at the root. You will find them clumped together, You will find them all alone, Growing in the garden spaces, Growing in the poisoned places, At their ease, go where they please Pushing their way through cement and stone. dandelions... |
Dandelions crowned with silver, Cup them softly in your hand; Blowballs softly swelling, trembling, Seeds fly off across the land. See them bright against the sky See them floating on the breeze Stalks stand leafless, lorn and lonely But they know that they need only Wait a while For dandelions spring up When they please. |
