The milky dew of the honeyed dandelion,
grows sour with neglect.
Yet the rose of youth continues with tender care.
Too long has beauty been ignored for the superficial tenacity of the,
And too long has youth been sorely deprived.
The necessity of the weed purely surpasses those of the rose,
which withers and dies at the merest touch,
and has not the will of the dandelion.