Music of the Wild 



Much has been written about field flowers, and 

 many poets and nature-lovers have celebrated their 

 The favorites. I sing for dandelions. If we had to 

 Lion's import them and they cost us five dollars a plant, 

 all of us would grow them in pots. Because they 

 are the most universal flower of field and wood, 

 few people pause to see how lovely they are. In 

 the first place, the plant is altogether useful. The 

 root is a fine blood-purifier. To a less extent the 

 leaves partake of the same property, and they are 

 beautiful; long and slender, reminding some sci- 

 entist of the ragged teeth of a lion "dent de leon" 

 dandelion. They are of dark green color when 

 full-grown, pale yellow-green at half growth, and 

 if at all sheltered, almost white when young. 

 Properly cooked, there is nothing better to eat. 

 The bloom is a flat, round, thickly-petaled head of 

 gold, dusted with pollen that the bees gather, and 

 it gives a delicious tang to honey. 



After a few days of bloom the flowers draw 

 into tightly-closed heads, and stand maturing the 

 seed. At the same time the stems rapidly lengthen, 

 to lift the heads high where the wind can have free 

 play upon them. Then at a touch, always when 

 we are not looking, the heads open into perfect 

 balls of misty white. These stand like crystal 

 globes for a short time, ripening, and then the 

 wind harvests the seed and sows it broadcast, so 

 that the dandelion is the most universal flower that 

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