WHEN reeks the foetid @3symplocarp@1 (Or cabbage, frankly known as @3skunk@1) And when the frogs, with pipe and harp, Begin to whistle and to plunk, I think of yellow marigolds (They must be yellow, by the name) And of the bloodroot that unfolds As bright (presumably?) as flame. Hepaticas, so frail and ----, And ---- ---- ---- anemones That on this ---- ---- covered bank Are trembling in the gentle breeze. The saxifrage, clear ---- in hue (Oh, is it yellow, red or pink?) The violet's undoubted blue, The Dutchman's Breeches (mauve, I think?) The lucid willow by the stream With ---- ---- catkins of soft fur; The mountain laurel's ---- gleam, All these are lovely, I aver. Dear burdock, blossom of my heart, Upon your petals glad I look; (I do not know these things apart, And got their names out of a book.) Oh, flowery friends of field and wood, What pleasure your existence gives. . . . And honestly, I wish I could Supply the proper adjectives! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...JONES'S PRIVATE ARGYMENT by SIDNEY LANIER AN OLD WOMAN: 2. HARVEST by EDITH SITWELL STANZAS FOR MUSIC (1) by GEORGE GORDON BYRON THE LOVER COMFORTETH HIMSELF WITH THE WORTHINESS OF HIS LOVE by HENRY HOWARD ON LUCY, COUNTESS OF BEDFORD by BEN JONSON |