On a breeze my fluff is blown;
So my airy seeds are sown.
Where the earth is burnt and sad,
I will come and make it glad.
All forlorn and ruined in places,
All neglected empty spaces,
I can cover only think!
With a mass of rosy pink.
Burst then, seed-pods; breezes, blow!
Far and wide my seeds shall go!
(Another name for this Willow-Herb is "Fireweed", because of
its way of growing where there have been heath or forest fires.)