Poetry

She went into a rain shower
picked a geranium-flower
was in a kind of festive mood
and from getting wet it did her no good.
 
Drops of water trailed to her bed
and that flower was very red,
while outside thunder fell with a blast
with drops pattering against the window glass.
 
At first it was such a sunny day
and through it she was happy and gay,
but now she came to me still merrily
and very wet she kissed me
 
and all thoughts of the flower was lost
even if she got it at some cost.