Time-Web
What's O'Clock
The day is sharp and hurriedAs wind upon a dahlia stem;It is harsh and abrupt with meAs a North-east breezeStriking a bed of sunflowers.Why should I break at the rootAnd cast all my fragile flowers in the dust—I who am no taller than a creeping pansy?I should be sturdy and definite,Yet am I tossed, and agitated, and pragmatically bending.