These are magnolia days,
When the wildness of the honeysuckle
Has succumbed to the sun,
And the sophisticated scent of the wax wealthy
Magnolia meanders down rows of trimmed hedges.
It is welcomed where the honeysuckle has been denied.

It makes its home in the city, in the South,
Where women walking down streets
Will turn their slanted eyes
To the great white flowers and gasp,
And men will tip their hats to the scent as they pass through.
Its existence eases the burden of a civilized concrete heat.