Vachel Lindsay

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.