UPON my lawn, I know not why, the dandelions thrive; the grass may all curl up and die, but they'll remain alive. I've tried about a million plans, to have the vile things slain; and all the schemes were also-rans, and all my efforts vain. The fair petunias that I bought, at fabulous expense, the sweet begonias that I brought and planted by the fence, the tulips from the Netherlands, they all have died the death, but still the dandelion stands, disfiguring the heath. My vine and figtree withered are, the rosebush passed away, the fern that grew in yonder jar shows symptoms of decay; the lilac, when the nights were cold, turned up its tender toes, and still the dandelion bold, its streak of yellow shows. If dandelions were desired, if they would bring in mon, if every gardener aspired to raise them by the ton, they'd make a specialty of death, they'd languish from their birth, and shrivel at the slightest breath, and perish from the earth. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HALLOWED GROUND by THOMAS CAMPBELL SUNSET WINGS by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI THE FUNERAL TREE OF THE SOKOKIS by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER POLLY BE-EN UPZIDES WI' TOM by WILLIAM BARNES THE ANSWER OF BOSTON by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE NAMES OF ROMANCE by BERTON BRALEY THE CHRISTENING by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN KING VICTOR EMANUEL ENTERS FLORENCE, APRIL, 1860 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING LINES WRITTEN IMMEDIATELY AFTER PARTING FROM A LADY by SAMUEL EGERTON BRYDGES |