Hari Smith Holms

I was walking down the hill,
I saw a wild bush along the
winding way.
A wonderful bunch of flower
was there, nodding with the wind
and did sway.
An unknown smell of jungle weed
put me in sheer feelings of trance,
and utter dismay.
An irresistible will to pluck
the flowers was telling me to
stand and stay.
But, the smell, the wildness
of the bunch, warned me
to go away.
Still, I stooped and plucked
and took near to my nose,
in mood gay.
Fainted I then fell on path,
as the flowers were venomous,
so to say.