The flowers are kissable and if you consult them answer Kiss me. If you kiss (here a long French catalogue from Grasse)---white carnations, white stocks, white hyacinths, white tuberoses, and white narcissi, all pertly out of season, will they not flame the brighter to your geedier hands of tongues of scarlet poinsettias? Each deserves and each must be given deserts --- Your equal justice known they will polish your otherwise misty monocle. With your dark head consult the scarlet-tongued white bouquet (oracular lap dog) on its special pale blue table beside you. Write a love letter to each, And be told- Love is a dish- Be as greedy as you feel- Under the gilt cages of the vistaed plane trees you might as well step up into them and enter the beau- tiful prison you desire and from it --- the sincerities and super-affectations of your nature until a fruition is borne---palatable perhaps only to fellow-prisoners, but reeking. and irresistibly, to the planets.
Playing now: BOUQUETS by John Banting
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