Swifter than the air,
Paler than the skies,
One would utter as she sees, oh what flair!
The Dandelion,
I behold your fragile pulchritude in the meadows,
Veiling at the sunshine as it dawns.
You would adorn the mounts in the summer like a mistletoe,
Either I shall grant you freedom with my silken blows.
The Dandelion,
a floret so demure,
lurking at the impure.
You will call my name and glare at the cities,where I shall be gone.
The Dandelion,
Would you miss my presence? Be as it may, swaying to and fro.