Botanical Love

Do not suppose
That flowers are for fun,
Or even spokesmen
For dumb lovers,
Though that is nearer
To the purpose
Of the shameless rose,
Who with her scent hires anything
With six legs and two wings
To be her go–between.
Some, like the honeysuckle,
Are more circumspect,
Wooing in decent dusk
The more fastidious insect.
Some trap panders
With a painted lip
Or treacherous liquid.
Some will give nectar
Only to long tongues,
Will yield a sip
Unless for servicing.
Even the wide–eyed daisy
Is more mercenary
Than you suppose.