They look so many different ways,
And not one single cloudlet stays;

But on across the heavens they blow,
I often wonder where they go,
Now sometime, maybe when I die,
I, too, will wander through the sky.



Problem


If I were a violet I'd think it a shame
To be always so simple and modest and tame,
To be hidden away like a hermit or nun
While the hare-brained pink roses can dance in the sun!
But consider the naughty wild ways of the rose--
There _must_ be _respectable_ flowers, I suppose!



Garden Musings


Why is the lily so stately and still?
Why doesn't she dance like the gay daffodil?
Why doesn't she blush like the rose or the pink,
Or, like mischievous pansy, indulge in a wink?
Do you think it's because she is holier than they,