They brought me a quilled, yellow dahlia, 
Opulent, flaunting. 
Round gold 
Flung out of a pale green stalk. 
Round, ripe gold 
Of maturity, 
Meticulously frilled and flaming, 
A fire-ball of proclamation: 
Fecundity decked in staring yellow 
For all the world to see. 
They brought a quilled, yellow dahlia, 
To me who am barren 
Shall I send it to you, 
You who have taken with you 
All I once possessed?