To a Wild Flower

Die ye, die
for the Wildflower
fits not in wild,
like the wildlover,
not in love,
is it acme,
the flower
to plant?
Like a mind
to ye body?
Die wild,
or live groomed?

Die, ye die,
and never
be born again,
to joy or pain,
I"ll shed a tear,
nourish you,
with a pear,
and the wild stump
will live again
a memory
of a scent lost

die ye die.