As soon as the sun rises in the East,
The daylily greets the dawn with a feast
Of petals sprinkled with morning dew,
But hours of life it has but few.
Fluted flowers with silent trumpets sounding,
Or bells that breezes caress without pounding.
Petals of apricot and tangerine stars
Too ephemeral to pluck for a vase.
As the sun reaches its zenith at noon,
The daylily's life span is over too soon.
As dusk descends the flowers wilt and fold,
During the night they wither - it is told.
Is the daylily a coquettish flirt?
With no intention of giving hurt,
Its pleasure is freely given but brief.
Life is too short and ends in grief.
