Dreams of nature

How I envy you, precious flower,

No guilty drops of doubt,

I pray of you; don’t shut me out,

Though I am rotted sour.

“Don’t be green” the pure one calls,

“For you are great and grand,"

"Your towering trunks tremendous and tanned,"

"On which you stand, no thought of falls”

No you lie, I am withered and corked,

Though do I seem this strong?

Your beauty proves you wrong,

I am nothing but dry old stalk.

“Talk not of this, beauty means naut”,

“Our size does differ, yet worth is alike”

“Old you may be, yet I scare all with spike”

“All I can ask is your standing support”

Fear not youthful love,

Leave not, for your words are heard,

Only a mere dream.