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! And caterpillars haste to milk The cowslips in the grass; The spider, in his web of silk, Looks out for flies that pass. These humble people leap from bed, They know the night is done: When Dandy spreads his golden head They think he is the sun! Dear Dandy truly does not smell As sweet as some bouquets; No florist gathers him to sell, He withers in a vase; Yet in the grass he's emperor, And lord of high renown; And grateful little folk adore His bright and shining crown. |