Airily poised in the garden bed,
Delicate saffron, white and rose,
With gossamer petals lightly spread
The columbines flutter upon their toes.

Wait, till the moonlight sets them free!
They'll stir, they'll shake off the dew, they'll go
Dancing, dancing (but you'll not see-
You'll be too busy asleep to know).

Someone surprised them once in May,
Glimmering ivory, gold, and pink,
Dancing under the moon. That way
Columbines found their name, I think.