The 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.

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