How sweetly on the autumn scene, <br />When haws are red amid the green, <br />The hawkbit shines with face of cheer, <br />The favorite of the faltering year! <br /> <br />When days grow short and nights grow cold, <br />How fairly gleams its eye of gold <br />On pastured field and grassy hill, <br />Along the roadside and the rill! <br /> <br />It seems the spirit of a flower, <br />This offspring of the autumn hour, <br />Wandering back to earth to bring <br />Some kindly afterthought of spring. <br /> <br />A dandelion's ghost might so <br />Amid Elysian meadows blow, <br />Become more fragile and more fine <br />Breathing the atmosphere divine.<br /><br />Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-hawkbit/
