i
Gleeful butterfly of life
Come grease my gladdened chin,
And slide to kiss my slippery lip
With butter yellow wing.
ii
I pick you posies
Which do not pose with
The style of a rose:
I pick you clots
Of forget-me-nots.
iii
P.Q., how did you lips
Sprout hairs of peach?
And how wonderfully ripe your full-blown
nose;
Eyes big brown old tangerines--
And P.Q.'s white ear?
Wax petaled rose.