The starry, fragile windflower, Poised above in airy grace, Virgin white, suffused with blushes, Shyly droops her lovely face. Elaine GoodaleThe First Flowers.
Thou lookest up with meek, confiding eye Upon the clouded smile of Aprils face, Unharmed though Winter stands uncertain by, Eyeing with jealous glance each opening grace. Jones VeryThe Windflower.