They brought me a quilled, yellow dahlia,
Opulent, flaunting.
Round gold Flung out of a pale green stalk.
Round, ripe gold Of maturity,
Meticulously frilled and flaming,
A fire-ball of proclamation:
Fecundity decked in staring yellow For all the world to see.
They brought a quilled, yellow dahlia,
To me who am barren Shall I send it to you,
You who have taken with you All I once possessed?
