To A Dandelion In Hawaii by E.S. Goodhue
How came you hear, my precious dandelion?
I saw you last in view of Vermont's hills,
Where cowslips border springs and rills,
And buttercups all richly golden, too,
Smile at the sun and drink the dew!
Like meeting far from home some well-known friend,
Your dear, familiar face gladdens my heart
And bids reluctant teardrops start;
I had not thought to see you here so far
From home, my bonnie, gold-washed star!
In boyhood days we picked your stem of seeds,
Telling our ages or the time of day
By blowing all we could away,
Counting those left, for hours or years,
Finding how old we were, and when to go!
So now again I pluck your ripened stalk,
Whose seeds refuse to drop, blow as I will.
Have they forgot their cunning-- I, my skill--
Or are years gone beyond recall,
Marked by the seeds which do not fall?
Whether 'tis so or not, I love you well,
Flower of my homeland in this distant clime;
This glimpse has bridged the hurrying stream of time,
Joining together now and then--
The present with the days when I was ten.
"Dandelion" by Evaleen Stein
Hey-a-day-a-day, my dear! Dandelion time!
Come, and let us make for them a pretty little rhyme!
See the meadows twinkling now, beautiful and bright
As the sky when through the blue, shine the stars at night!
Once upon a time, folks say, mighty kings of old
Met upon a splendid field called “The Cloth of Gold.”
But, we wonder, could it be there was ever seen
Brighter gold than glitters now in our meadows green?
Dandelions, dandelions, shining through the dew,
Let the kings have Cloth of Gold, but let us have you!
by Evaleen Stein (1863-1923)