Season of Flowers

“I fare the well,” the lamenting flower cries,
As cold winter snarls, and warm summer dies.

Her petals have all withered
From this valley chilling venom;
The curse of a Devil
That falls down from Heaven.

It smothers these hills,
A crude blanket of white,
That lingers for days
And many long nights.

Yet under this quilt
Of pain without guilt,
She waits for the song
Of the warm season bird;
A charming old hymn
So delightfully heard.

“Welcome, dear friends,” is the young daughters praise,
As warm summer rises, and cold winter decays.