Pale Promise Poem by Fay Slimm

The pleasure of a primrose
Is infinite when new
As 'neath it's bashful peeping
It calls to any who
Will look at what's to follow
It's dainty Springtime show,
The glories of a summer
Which, dazzling, will bestow
Such vivid colour portraits
That lighten winter's chill
As together, round a fire
We remember summer still.
The pleasure of a primrose
Though pale reflector, yet
Is of itself a beauty
Once seen, we'll not forget.