Petunia blossoms: Ballads and poems

———— Ballads and Poems BY DOROTHEA AUGUSTE GUNHILDE WIFE OF WILLIAM F. SCHRAGE
COPYRIGHT 1921 BY MRS. WILLIAM F. SCHRAGE KANSAS CITY, MO. PUBLISHED BY THE GATE CITY PRESS KANSAS CITY, MO.
To My Beloved Husband, W i l l i a m F. S c h r a g e to whom I dedicate this book.


Oh, beautiful petunias, how lovely you grow, Some purple, some crimson and some white as snow; Your colors are like the rainbow bending o’er, And your scent comes into my windows and door.
Your seeds were so tiny, I scarce could conceive, When you came up profusely, one can hardly believe That blossoms like these, such wee little mites Could produce in my garden such wonderful sights.
When once you are planted when Spring comes around, Multiplied by hundreds you’d peep through the ground; Awaiting the heat, the Sun and the rain In the sweet early summer to grow lovely again.
You come every year, you make my heart glad With such beautiful blossoms, how can I be sad? The humming bird loves you, they come every day And drink of your nectar, so softly and gay.
Even the bee gets much of his sweetness from you In the early morning—your petals with dew, And hover around you; your blossoms they love, As you hold up your faces to Heaven above.
The Autumn is coming, with its wind and cold; Again down to earth will you enfold, That in the Spring your strength may return; For you, lovely petunias, my heart will still yearn.