Poems about dandelions

Yellow Mayne on a bed of bright green

Welcomes the sun into its bower

Deep taproots aerate the soil unseen

When raindrops fall in heavy showers

A weed, a food a medicine, a drink

Vitamin A, C, and K, along with calcium

It makes one think

As I ponder this apparent axiom

Is this a flower or a weed that in my garden grows?

Lets ask the poets what they know

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The First Dandelion by Walt Whitman

Simple and fresh and fair from winter's close emerging,

As if no artifice of fashion, business, politics, had ever been,

Forth from its sunny nook of shelter'd grass—innocent, golden, calm as the dawn,

The spring's first dandelion shows its trustful face.

Dandelion  by Hilda Conkling

Little soldier with the golden helmet,

O What are you guarding on my lawn?

You with your green gun

And your yellow beard,

Why do you stand so stiff?

There is only the grass to fight!

The Dandelion by Vachel Lindsay

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.

Dandy Dandelion  by Christopher Morley

When Dandy Dandelion wakes

And combs his yellow hair,

The ant his cup of dewdrop takes

And sets his bed to air;

The worm hides in a quilt of dirt

To keep the thrush away,

The beetle dons his pansy shirt—

They know that it is day!

Dandelion by Nellie M. Garabrant

There's a dandy little fellow,

Who dresses all in yellow,

In yellow with an overcoat of green;

With his hair all crisp and curly,

In the springtime bright and early

A-tripping o'er the meadow he is seen.

Through all the bright June weather,

Like a jolly little tramp,

He wanders o'er the hillside, down the road;

Around his yellow feather,

Thy gypsy fireflies camp;

His companions are the wood lark and the toad.

But at last this little fellow

Doffs his dainty coat of yellow,

And very feebly totters o'er the green;

For he very old is growing

And with hair all white and flowing,

A-nodding in the sunlight he is seen.

Oh, poor dandy, once so spandy,

Golden dancer on the lea!

Older growing, white hair flowing,

Poor little baldhead dandy now is he!