1Not tall or haughty or quick to impose
But rather, I think, a Dandelion
With deep, strong roots and bearing proud
Though green leaves and color loud
His gentle emotions and thoughts aflyin'
Like the wispy seeds of a Dandelion
My love is not a proud white posy
Not cold and genteel but warm and cozy
As familiar as a single Daisy
Impudently cheerful, with a heart of gold
Waving in the wind, brave and bold
His words are clear; his thoughts not hazy
Like the brazen truth of the wild Daisy
My love is not a silvered lily
Not arrogant and seldom frilly
But common as a cornsilk Chicory
It's soft blue color his inner calm
He is to my soul a soothing balm
He's not beguiling, there is no trickery
But loves me humble, like the modest Chicory
My love is not a honeysuckle
Not simpering or weak, of soon to backle
But strong and tough as Thistle
When others intrude they meet his thorns
He guards that which he adorns
When I do wrong he doesn't bristle
But in many ways, my love's a Thistle
My love is common, my love is plain
But his heart's emotions he does not feign
My love's a simple, stately thing
Not one of those chic exotics
Compelled by compulsions and neurotics
Who could never compare to my heart's one king
For love is a weedy kind of thing.