The dandelion some call a weed;
it does not care
but laughs in gold and wafts its seed
and leaps and dances everywhere.
The lion's tooth will spring with joy
in tribe that none can ever destroy.
Perhaps this verse is leaping up,
wild endive on the green,
morning dew on bloom and cup
that gives its simple face a sheen;
horse-bloom in swift disorder grows
but with smiles and dancing shows.