How the arrogant iris would wither and fade
If the soft summer dew never fell.
And the timid arbutus that hides in the shade
Would no longer make fragrant the dell!
All the silver-flecked fishes would languish and die
Were it not for the foam-spangled streams;
Little brooks could not flow, without rain from the sky;
Nor a poet get on without dreams.
If the blossoms refused their pale honey, the bees
Must in idleness hunger and pine;
While the moss cannot live, when it's torn from the trees,
Nor the waxen-globed mistletoe twine.
Were it not for the sunshine the birds wouldn't sing,
And the heavens would never be blue.
But all of Nature's works, the most wonderful thing
Is how well I get on without you.
by Dorothy Parker
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