69
THE REALIST
THE sun shone on the meadow
And painted silver patines on the level river;
A purple bird spread scarlet wings
Under the trumpet vine arbor
And the scent of the pink melons was in the balmy air.
But, down there by the waterside,
These colors gave me no comfort.
I was wondering
Whether an early morning bath
Would ease my mahogany colored spaniel
Of his plague of fleas.
