To A Buttercup

You came up through the earth so deep and dark
To listen to the sweet song of the lark
And like the lark's song buttercup you bring
The beauty we have grown to love in Spring.

You seem so glad to show your yellow face
In such a lonely and deserted place
The splendid beauty of your presence grace
The bank by where the free flowing streamlet race.

In the cool breeze of Spring you nod and sway
And with your kin flowers seem to dance and play
And at the Spring sun smile as if to say
We may as well be happy whilst we stay.

The lark which sings that sweet song it must die
And buttercup so too must you and I
But new born buttercups will come each Spring
And listen to another skylark sing.