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...JOAN OF ARC IN RHEIMS by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS GEORGE LEVISON OR, THE SCHOOLFELLOWS by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM EPIGRAM by DECIMUS MAGNUS AUSONIUS STANZAS SELECTED FROM THE PAINS OR MEMORY; A FRAGMENT by BERNARD BARTON CHRISTMASSE DAY by JOSEPH BEAUMONT THE DEAD BRONCHO-BUSTER by BERTON BRALEY SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 15 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING |