Little bud Dandelion
Hears from her nest,
“Merry heart, starry eye,
Wake from your rest!”
Wide ope the emerald lids;
Robin’s above;
Wise little Dandelion
Smiles at his love.
Cold lie the daisy-banks,
Clad but in green,
Where in the Mays agone
Bright hues were seen.
Wild pinks are slumbering,
Violets delay–
True little Dandelion
Greeteth the May.
Meek little Dandelion
Groweth more fair,
Till dries the amber dew
Out from her hair.
High rides the thirsty sun,
Fiercely and high,–
Faint little Dandelion
Closeth her eye.
Dead little Dandelion,
In her white shroud,
Heareth the angel-breeze
Call from the cloud.
Tiny plumes fluttering
Make no delay,
Little winged Dandelion
Soareth away.
Helen L. Bostwick.
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