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.