November Cotton Flower
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Brown eyes that loved without a trace of fear
Beauty so sudden for that that time of year
Failed in its function as the autumn rake
Drouth fighting soil had caused the soil to take
All water from the streams; dead birds were found
In wells a hundred feet below the ground
Boll-weevil's coming, and the winter's cold
Made cotton-stalks look rusty, seasons old
Such was the season when the flower bloomed
Old folks were startled, and it soon assumed
Significance. Superstition saw
Something it had never seen before
And cotton, scarce as any southern snow
Was vanishing; the branch, so pinched and slow
