24. THE DANDELION. 



"DRIGHT little dandelion, 



Downy, yellow face, 

 Peeping up among the grass 



With such gentle grace ; 

 Minding not the April wind 



Blowing rude and cold, 

 Brave little dandelion 

 With a heart of gold. 



Meek little dandelion 



Changing into curls 

 At the magic touch of these 



Merry boys and girls. 

 When they pinch thy dainty throat, 



Strip thy dress of green, 

 On thy soft and gentle face 



Not a cloud is seen. 



Poor little dandelion, 



Now all gone to seed, 

 Scattered roughly by the wind 



Like a common weed. 



