Queen Anne’s Lace
Dare I defend the right of weed to bloom?
A common flow’r, yet glorious the view.
Up close, each tiny blossom spared the room
for sibling’s breadth and breath, as each one grew.
Though fire and fancy bristles might assault,
the Queen so graciously doth complement.
For her, no haste to seek and find a fault;
her wish, to slow the Devil’s quick descent.
Such honor can be seen in meadow’s hues,
as vistas’ painted flames are cooled by grace.
Her virtue notwithstanding, his to choose:
shall it be love, or merely common lace?
Still, both are subjects to the bracing breeze;
their dance, entrancing, meant to sorrows ease.
|
