Flora Fair

I saw on the slopes of Mount Manitou,
    In the rays of the summer sun,
A beautiful blossom of beryl blue
    That the Weaver of nature spun.

Its daisy-like petals were plush indeed
    Yet this flower of well renown
Had stemmed from the stalk of a worthless weed
    To be garbed in a gorgeous gown.

I paused to caress it with courtly care
    So its face I could clearly see
I bowed and said, "Thank you 0 Flora Fair,"
    And it lovingly smiled at me.