MY LADY DAHLIA 169 



burs catch fast to my lady's skirts and follow the trail of 

 cattle and sheep, not disdaining to take passage on the 

 tail of a high-stepping thoroughbred if that will serve a 

 purpose, the pigweed makes its way in search of new 

 worlds to conquer. 



By far more degenerate than human or butterfly gypsy, 

 it manages to add its generations of happy-go-lucky career 

 without embellishing the records of beauty or romance of 

 the summers of centuries past and present. 



Yet we may be mistaken. A wiser age may discover 

 uses for weeds, and a turn of the wheel of fortune pamper 

 them that they rise in the scale of loveliness. 



