The Peddler of Flowers

I CAME from the country With flowers, Larkspur and roses, Fretted lilies In their leaves, And long, cool lavender.

I carried them From house to house. And cried them Down hot streets.

The sun fell Upon my flowers. And the dust of the streets Blew over my basket.

That night I slept upon the open seats Of a circus. Where all day long People had watched The antics Of a painted clown.