He likes the poor things of the world the best, I would not, therefore, if I could be rich. It pleases him to stoop for buttercups. E. B. BrowningAurora Leigh. Bk. IV.
And O the buttercups! that field O the cloth of gold, where pennons swam Where France set up his lilied shield, His oriflamb, And Henrys lion-standard rolled: What was it to their matchless sheen, Their million million drops of gold Among the green! Jean IngelowThe Letter L Present. St. 3.
When buttercups are blossoming, The poets sang, tis best to wed: So all for love we paired in Spring Blanche and Iere youth had sped. E. C. StedmanBohemia.