Rhododendron said to Narcissus,
"Where do you go each fall,
To meditate or contemplate
Some sacred shrine or hall ?"
"Nay",spake the Narcissus,
"My time is short, tis true.
"I sleep beneath the ebon earth
and hide myself from view"
"Why do you hide, my vain fair lass,
What tortures do you fear?
The tickling bees, the creeping grass,
The trampling of the deer?
"Nay again my bow belled friend,
For if I stayed all year;
My countenance of buttercup,
Wouldst not tell you spring is here."
Copyright ©2005 Mark Wayne Dunbar[/color][/size]