Poems
O Dandelion
O dandelion, rich and haughty,
King of village flowers!
Each day is coronation time,
You have no humble hours.
I like to see you bring a troop
To beat the blue-grass spears,
To scorn the lawn-mower that would be
Like fate's triumphant shears.
Your yellow heads are cut away,
It seems your reign is o'er.
By noon you raise a sea of stars
More golden than before.
In the Early Springtime
In the early Springtime, when the violets grow,
When the birds sing sweetly, and the soft winds blow,
Comes the little daisy, blooming fresh and fair,
Springing bright and joyous in the morning air.