Oh, cut me reeds to blow upon,
Or gather me a star,
But leave the sultry passion-flowers
Growing where they are.
I fear their sombre yellow deeps,
Their whirling fringe of black,
And he who gives a passion-flower
Always asks it back.
Tampico
Grace Hazard Conkling
(1)
Poem topics: fear, flower, star, black, yellow, passion, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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