THE BUTTERFLY WEED 



The life that feeds thy tender bloom, I feel 

 The primal fount whence all thy beauty flows- 

 Is one with that from which my spirit quaffs; 

 Some Workman thy great beauty overbroods, 

 And pedestals some Architect has hung 

 Firm at the base of all thy lovely blooms; 

 Thy flaming orange-tinted colors coax 

 My ardent heart to springtide love of thee; 

 Some holy halo girds thee round, and fills 

 Thy summer atmosphere with wordless joy. 



