A SPRING THOUGHT OF THE MARVELOUS DAHLIA 
In the cellar our keeper comes marching through, 
With a “\vake up there" you and you, 
We ll start a new season of joy and toil. 
My plans for the Show. I’m sure won’t foil. 
Tomorrow he will plant us beneath warm fertile soil. 
Then our pent up energy will bubble and boil. 
It will push our sprolus up to the light. 
Where we’ll spread and grow to a surprising height. 
Our roots they reach out, and our stems they will fill. 
With the necessary substance to make chlorophiL 
Constitutents of the earth, sunshine, air and ram 
We weld through the season in an endless chain. 
We fulfill our mission with all our heart. 
Till Jack Frost shall bite us, and make us depart. 
Before the end of the season, we shall reach our goal, 
That’s when the petals of our flowers shall unroll. 
When we are ready, God opens us one by one. 
To strain out the spectre of his great sun. 
Through our tiny crystals wd let them rain, 
Sort and select them and reflect them back again. 
To us it is a pleasure as the beams slip by. 
To make them a feast for the human eye, 
They say us dahlias are the monarchs of flowers. 
People stand and admire us for hours and hours. 
With a variety of colors we shine and glow. 
From the deepest purple to white as snow. 
"There's none that are blue," did we hear some one say? 
Why, that’s because "we never feel that way. 
By ALBERT PARRELLA 
