The First Dandelion

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from Leaves of Grass: BOOK XXXIV. SANDS AT SEVENTY - by Walt Whitman.

 
  Simple and fresh and fair from winter’s close emerging,
  As if no artifice of fashion, business, politics, had ever been,
  Forth from its sunny nook of shelter’d grass—innocent, golden, calm
      as the dawn,
  The spring’s first dandelion shows its trustful face.

 

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