Turn Ho ut 
I dreamed I walked along a path 
Through Iris in full bloom. 
I dreamed that they could speak, as we 
And they, too, spoke of “doom.” 
The time when you and I might stand 
Rooted in a plot, 
While Iris rated each of us 
And put us on the spot. 
I dreamed it was a fearful thing 
Most difficult to face. 
This turn-about of Iris 
Judging the human race. 
They’d set us out most anywhere 
In extremes of heat or cold, 
We couldn't shiver, or relax 
At all, so we'd be told. 
But stand straight as poplars, 
Yet not grow too tall. 
Too short; too wide; too thin; and 
That wouldn’t be nearly all,— 
Our names were most unfortunate, 
Our pedigrees, lost, 
We couldn't begin to justify 
All that we had cost. 
Many of us lacked for flair, 
Run-of-mill they’d think. 
Their attitude most stern and grim. 
(Until I saw one wink!) 
I dreamed we tried to edge away 
But, rooted firm and fast 
Only upon awakening 
Could this thing end, at last! 
Luckily, a dream. 
But it’s with me as I walk, 
I’m still a little wary 
Thinking Iris yearn to talk! 
