When I first saw the dandelion,
A ball of fluff so round
I held it gently in my hand
And kept it from the ground. 

I tried to sniff the scent
But much to my chagrin
My breath the seeds did send
To fly along the wind.


  “Did I do that?” I cried
All disconsolate
“Has the flower died?
Did I make the ball evaporate?”
 

“I did not mean it
I really meant no harm
Had I foreseen it,
I ‘d have held my breath so warm.”
I saw a pretty crimson flower
Along my garden walk
Its beauty seized me in its power
I longed to hold it and to talk.
  I took the fragile bloom
Out of its earthy bed
I pulled its petals back
To sniff its odour red.
 

My god! The petals fell apart.
To repair the harm
I had not the art.
Its destruction stung my heart.
 

“Did I do that?” I cried
All disconsolate
“Has the flower died?
Did I make the bloom evaporate?”
 

“I did not mean it
I really meant no harm
Had I foreseen it
I’d have held my breath so warm.”
 

If I could but hold my breath
And stop the harm to you
That is what I’d do.
 

So send me to a monastery
Where I can be alone
Confine me to a cell
Of iron and of stone.
 

I will touch no flowers
Nor try to smell their scent.
I will be still for hours
And days and weeks, to repent
 

By saying nothing,
Seeing nothing,
Touching nothing,
Smelling nothing.
 

Because I mean it
And have foreseen it,
I will hold my breath so warm.
 

I will do no harm
And never more will fret,
“Did I do that?”