A Timid Flower Views Spring

On a timid flower fell a gentle shower
With the eternal warmth of Spring’s caress
In every droplet falling on the flower’s top
In splashings of saintly, serene tenderness.

And of the rain, fresh, sweet rain
That softly fell from the heavens above
The flower drank as though to thank
The Spring for such affection and love.

‘Spring, ‘ said the flower, in that magnificent hour
When the warm sun brightly shone again,
‘I would have died, ‘ the flower sighed,
‘Were it not for your so kind gift of rain.’

Then pausing a second, the flower recokoned,
‘Spring, ‘ the flower spoke, ‘Thou are to me
As woman to man and man to woman
As they to each other are, so thee are to me! ‘ – Carl Harris