(7 February 1878 - 15 November 1958 / New York City, New York)

Tampico

Oh, cut me reeds to blow upon,
   Or gather me a star,
But leave the sultry passion-flowers
   Growing where they are.

I fear their sombre yellow deeps,
   Their whirling fringe of black,
And he who gives a passion-flower
   Always asks it back.

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