Flowers and silky dresses billowing,
Silky tresses also blowing in the breeze,
Anxious laughter, not from the flowers,
But from the young women of messed tresses
While pushing down their up-blown dresses.
Timidly trembling in Spring's puppy love,
Youth loves cheerfully and breathlessly,
Growing, playing, and falling far in love
Until the young love palls and dies away,
To end just as the Spring breezes also may.