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...ON CARPACCIO'S PICTURE: THE DREAM OF ST. URSALA; SONNET by AMY LOWELL O GLORIOUS FRANCE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE LITTLE BOY LOST, FR. SONGS OF INNOCENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE THE RETIRED CAT by WILLIAM COWPER JOGGIN' ERLONG by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR |