In the Morning by Willis Boyd Allen - HTML preview

DANDELION.

A dandelion in a meadow grew

Among the waving grass and cowslips yellow;

Dining on sunshine, breakfasting on dew,

He was a right contented little fellow.

Each morn his golden head he lifted straight,

To catch the first sweet breath of coming day;

Each evening closed his sleepy eyes, to wait

Until the long, cool night had passed away.

One afternoon, in sad, unquiet mood,

I paused beside this tiny, bright-faced flower,

And begged that he would tell me, if he could,

The secret of his joy through sun and shower.

He looked at me with open eyes, and said:

“I know the sun is somewhere shining clear,

And when I cannot see him overhead,

I try to be a little sun, right here!”