Cornflower Blue Some people love the roses red, And the sunflower’s amber shine, Not for naught, has the poet said, By any name, ‘twould smell sublime. They, heedless of the wild-flower’s gifts, After the reaper, still standing tall, May miss the dandelion’s proffered wish, A humble ‘weed,’ to call. But I love blue, the sapphire shade, Of duck-egg, sea and sky, The corn-flower, in the barley field, Bears true-love’s name to me. Its bonnie hue, its petals wet, The pearly dew it holds; It’s ‘bachelor’s button,’ so none forget, The name it bore, of old. As plants they rise, so memories dear, Through passing years still shine, That same blue, so tenderly near, So like, to eyes of thine!