NEW VERSION OF AN OLD GAME

HE storm had left the rain-butt brim-
ming ;
A dahlia leaned across the brink ;
Its mirrored self, beneath it swimming,
Lit the dark water, gold and pink.

Oh, rain, far fallen from heights of azure —
Pure rain, from heavens so cold and
lone —
Dost thou not feel, and thrill with pleasure
To feel a flower’s heart in thine own?

Enjoy thy beauty, and bestow it,
Fair dahlia, fenced from harm, mishap !
“See, Babs, this flower—and this below
nite
She looked, and screamed in rapture —
Snap !”
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