'Prodded and crushed and revoltingly battered,
Shrunken and wasted and hatefully tattered,
Petals lay trampled all dirty and scattered;
Ravished of rareness: the rareness that mattered.
I fear vernal Summer must be degraded,
Since to face Autumn she left them unaided,
Small wonder they drooped, they fell, and they faded.
Leaving me desolate, weary and jaded.’
John Sutherland Wright.