HOLLYHOCKS slant in the wind, <br />Gallantly blowing, <br />Crinkled and purfled and lined, <br />Thank God for their growing. <br />Their burden is only of bees, <br />Banded and brown, <br />But she, O, she's <br />The worth of my world on her head for a crown. <br />How can she step it so freely, so lightly, <br />Her head like a star on a stem showing whitely, <br />Mow can she carry her <br />Wealth with that innocent air? <br />I'm going to marry her, marry her, marry her, <br />Just for the wealth of her hair. <br /> <br />Larkspurs as deep as a pool, <br />Lilies like ladies, <br />Silvered and silked where the cool <br />Elder tree shade is, <br />These are the queens of the sun, <br />Splendid and sweet, <br />But she, my one <br />Flower's without price from her head to her feet. <br />How can she go by the lanes and the ditches, <br />Her little proud head unbowed by its riches? <br />How can she carry her <br />Fortune so light in the air? <br />I'm going to marry her, marry her, marry her, <br />Just for the gold of her hair.<br /><br />Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-fortune-seeker/
