CHRYSANTHEMUMS

Oh, what a dainty negligence you show

Outspreading all your petals’ coquetry,

As careless of restraint as poetry,

Although, like poetry, you surely know

That by the laws of beauty you must grow.

There is a pure and virgin fantasy

In your curled petals, white as driven snow,

And wayward as the unbound locks that blow

Around a maiden's head, when, mad with glee,

With outstretched arms she dances by the sea.

Yet in your glad abandon still you show

The wildest beauty sorrow-touched must be,

To give it worth; your leaves curve tenderly

In subtle arches; so the heart may know

Within the dancing maid the roots of woe.