Reuben and Other Poems by Robert Leighton |
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THE DANDELION. |
 | Reuben and Other Poems |  |
THE DANDELION.
The daisy has its poets; all have striven
Its world-wide reputation to prolong;
But here's its yellow neighbour—who has given
The dandelion a song?
Its world-wide reputation to prolong;
But here's its yellow neighbour—who has given
The dandelion a song?
248
Come, little sunflower, patient in neglect,
Will ne'er a one of them assert thy claim,
But, passing by, contemptuously connect
Thee and thy Scottish name?
Will ne'er a one of them assert thy claim,
But, passing by, contemptuously connect
Thee and thy Scottish name?
Whence the neglect? The daisy is as homely,
Its very homeliness has been extolled:
Less beautiful thou art, yet not uncomely,
Thou star of shining gold!
Its very homeliness has been extolled:
Less beautiful thou art, yet not uncomely,
Thou star of shining gold!
And great thy virtue; root and stem and flower
Yield to the man of herbs their potent juice:
Not all an outward tinsel is thy dower—
It serves a deeper use.
Yield to the man of herbs their potent juice:
Not all an outward tinsel is thy dower—
It serves a deeper use.
Most human-like the fortune of thy species;
Some struggle hard along the dusty roads,
While some upon the meads, and lawns delicious,
Are blest with pure abodes.
Some struggle hard along the dusty roads,
While some upon the meads, and lawns delicious,
Are blest with pure abodes.
Thou art transfigured too, like the immortals;
The sleep of death usurps thine earthly post;
And then outcomes from thy re-opening portals,
A beautiful white ghost.
The sleep of death usurps thine earthly post;
And then outcomes from thy re-opening portals,
A beautiful white ghost.
Familiar to the children in the meadows,
They pluck the apparition frail, and blow;
And by the flittings of its spectral shadows
They wise conclusions know.
They pluck the apparition frail, and blow;
And by the flittings of its spectral shadows
They wise conclusions know.
249
Beautiful spirit, this thy highest being
Passes away like sighs into the air:
Not to be lost, although beyond our seeing,
But breathing otherwhere.
Passes away like sighs into the air:
Not to be lost, although beyond our seeing,
But breathing otherwhere.
Thine is the efflorescence of the poet,
Whose wingèd thoughts speed on to unknown parts,
Take root and are, though he may never know it,
The joy of thankful hearts.
Whose wingèd thoughts speed on to unknown parts,
Take root and are, though he may never know it,
The joy of thankful hearts.
| Reuben and Other Poems | |