#WingedWordsWindsday: 2023/04/19 -- Dandelion Rhyme Time! :)

 WINGED WORDS WINDSDAY

Compiled & Edited by Rob Chappell (@RHCLambengolmo)

Vol. 2, No. 25: April 19, 2023

 

 

Dandelion Rhymes for Dandelion Times!

 

A Reminiscence from the Editor

                I have a confession to make to my readers: The dandelion is my favorite flower of all time!

                When I was in elementary school, my classmates and I used the dandelion to tell the time of year. When dandelions began to appear on the playground of our school in mid-late April, we knew that summer vacation was only about a month-and-a-half away. When we saw the dandelions turn gray and start to scatter their seeds upon the spring breezes, we knew that only a few weeks remained in the school year.

                We used to bring bouquets of dandelions to our teachers, and they would place them in vases on their desks to show their gratitude – not only to us, but perhaps also to the dandelions themselves, for the golden reminder that summer was almost at hand!

                I still remember those magical springtime days of my elementary school years, when my classmates and I would gather dandelions for our teachers, and how we rejoiced in the thought that school would soon be over for the summer!

 

The Great Seal of the Village of Bethalto in southwest Illinois, where the Editor attended Zion Lutheran School from 1973-1980. (Image Credit: Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons)

 

“Dandelions in the Sun”

By Annette Wynne (fl. 1919-1922)

 

    Dandelions in the sun,

    Golden dollars every one,

    Let us pick them and go buy

    All the sea and all the sky.

 

    Dandelions in the sun,

    Golden dollars every one —

    Who can be as rich as we

    Buying sky and hill and sea!

 

“The Dandelion”

By Vachel Lindsay (1879-1931)

 

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.

 

“Dandelion”

By Evaleen Stein (1863-1923)

 

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!

 

“Little Dandelion”

By Helen Barron Bostwick (1826-1907)

 

    Happy little Dandelion

    Lights up the meads,

    Swings on her slender foot,

    Telleth her beads,

    Lists to the robin's note

    Poured from above;

    Wise little Dandelion

    Asks not for love.

 

    Cold lie the daisy banks

    Clothed but in green,

    Where, in the days agone,

    Bright hues were seen.

    Wild pinks are slumbering,

    Violets delay;

    True little Dandelion

    Greeteth the May.

 

    Brave little Dandelion!

    Fast falls the snow,

    Bending the daffodil's

    Haughty head low.

    Under that fleecy tent,

    Careless of cold,

    Blithe little Dandelion

    Counteth her gold.

 

    Meek little Dandelion

    Groweth more fair,

    Till dies the amber dew

    Out from her hair.

    High rides the thirsty Sun,

    Fiercely and high;

    Faint little Dandelion

    Closeth her eye.

 

    Pale little Dandelion,

    In her white shroud,

    Heareth the angel-breeze

    Call from the cloud;

    Tiny plumes fluttering

    Make no delay;

    Little winged Dandelion

    Soareth away.

 

“The First Dandelion”

By Walt Whitman (1819-1892)

 

    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 sheltered grass — innocent, golden, calm as the dawn,

    The spring's first dandelion shows its trustful face.

 

“The Flower”

By Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809-1892)

 

Once in a golden hour

I cast to earth a seed.

Up there came a flower,

The people said, a weed.

 

To and fro they went

Through my garden-bower,

And muttering discontent

Cursed me and my flower.

 

Then it grew so tall

It wore a crown of light,

But thieves from over the wall

Stole the seed by night.

 

Sowed it far and wide

By every town and tower,

Till all the people cried,

“Splendid is the flower.”

 

Read my little fable:

He that runs may read.

Most can raise the flowers now,

For all have got the seed.

 

And some are pretty enough,

And some are poor indeed;

And now again the people

Call it but a weed.

 

In this 1679 illustration by Maria Sibylla Merian (1647-1717), the founding mother of modern entomology, a dandelion is serving as a plant host to the pale tussock moth. (Image Credit: Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons)