The Real Woman Cries For Flower
The real woman cries for flower.
A handed one makes her tower.
The much uplifted that hour!
Giver has but lent her power;
Just nothing would the day sour.
A woman, then free to glower,
If you'd promised her a flower
And it she saw not next hour;
As a replacement Bakers Flour...
Such a woman could make one cower:
For more than one grieving hour
Tongue-lashing men with full power?
"Go and sit down on your bower!"
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