Photos by Barry Wallace
Which rise in form of spring-time flowers,
Oh, say if aught of purer birth
Is nursed by suns and showers
Than this fair plant, whose stems are bowed
In such lithe curves of maiden grace,
Veiled in white blossoms like a cloud
Of daintiest bridal lace?
From "The Spirea" ~ by Paul Hamilton Hayne
Please comment if you wish.
Barry Wallace
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