The Pansy and the Rose

The Rose said to the Pansy,
I am mightier than you
I stand tall, with fragrance full
And my color's brighter too.

Said the Pansy to the Rose,
What you say is very true
But my bloom lasts all winter;
That must matter too.

That may be, little flower,
Said the Rose in condescending air,
But I am adored for my glory,
And of you there's little care.

I understand your thinking,
Put the Pansy in careful tone,
But perhaps you've reasoned wrongly
For by your words, you stand alone.

That I do, returned the Rose,
Cut to display for one and all.
I pity you, for you would wilt
And, then too, you're very small.

That may be, said the Pansy
With concern upon her face,
But aren't you ever slightly lonely
On a mantle in a vase?

And in your height and majesty
Your life is awful short.
Wouldn't you rather last for longer
Among others of your sort?

At that, the Rose drooped slightly,
And fell lost in pointed thought,
For the Pansy did look happy
Among her sisters in her pot.

You may be right, I think,
Said the Rose with careful tone,
For perhaps it might be better
To grow with friends and not alone.

I  think I will join you, Rose said
Throwing caution to the wind.
I can see your life is richer;
I am humbled to decend.

The Pansy then looked on,
And met at once with all new friends,
For the Rose had become wild
Among blossoms that were her kin.

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