244 ARBOR DA Y MANUAL. 



TO THE DANDELION. 



DEAR common flower, that grow'st beside the way, 

 Fringing the dusty road with harmless gold 

 First pledge of blithesome May, 



Which children pluck, and, full of pride uphold, 

 High-hearted buccaneers, o'erjoyed that they 

 An Eldorado in the grass have found, 

 Which not the rich earth's ample round 

 May match in wealth, thou art more dear to me 

 Than all the prouder summer-blooms may be. 



Gold such as thine ne'er drew the Spanish prow 

 Through the primeval hush of Indian seas, 



Nor wrinkled the lean brow 



Of age, to rob the lover's heart of ease ; 



Tis the Spring's largess, which she scatters now 



To rich and poor alike, with lavish hand, 



Though most hearts never understand 



To take it at God's value, but pass by 



The offered wealth with unrewarded eye. 



Thou art my tropics and mine Italy ; 



To look at thee unlocks a warmer clime ; 

 The eyes thou givest me 



Are in the heart, and heed not space or time : 

 Not in mid June the golden-cuirassed bee 

 Feels a more summer-like warm ravishment 

 In the white lily's breezy tent, 

 His fragrant Sybaris, than I, when first 

 From the dark green thy yellow circles burst. 



Then think I of deep shadows on the grass, 

 Of meadows where in sun the cattle graze, 



Where, as the breezes pass, 



The gleaming rushes lean a thousand ways, 



Of leaves that slumber in a cloudy mass, 



Or whiten in the wind, of waters blue 



That from the distance sparkle through 



Some woodland gap, and of a sky above, 



Where one white cloud like a stray lamb doth move. 



My childhood's earliest thoughts are linked with thee ; 



The sight of thee calls back the robin's song, 

 Who, from the dark old tree 



Beside the door, sang clearly all day long, 

 And I, secure in childish piety, 



