A FLOWER SHOW

The meek waves of sun wash by,

Scattering 'cross a thousand beauties wild,

Cold and soft,not hurting,

The soft cheeks of a hundred blossoms.

The damp air, perfumed sweet

And colours spread wide abroad,

Like a kaleidoscope,the blooms

Stare at me,from all angles.

Red, yellow, white

Orange,blues and hues dark and light,

A show of virgin beauties

Of all origins and descents.

The throng of amused over-shade

The blend of shapes and craft,oh, strange!

Stretched across the horizon far,

what indeed, is a better treat?

Some proud heads,raised far up

Afraid to lose or yield?

Yet among those descendants noble,

Servile heads so drooping by.

He young and old,fresh and dying,

Some welcoming,some not,

While soothing is the touch of some,

Ladies some do hide by fangs.

And sages so,perfectly pure

Alone and aloof,from the empting world,

the lively youth,arrogantly plaid,

With flashing colours,summoning bugs.

Yes, a world alone is for flowers,

A kingdom ever-hailing,

Who, but He alone,

Could make this land a place to adore?