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GOLDENRODS
[ Also see Flowers Plants ]

Still the Goldenrod of the roadside clod
  Is of all, the best!
      - Simeon Tucker Clark, Goldenrod

I lie amid the Goldenrod,
  I love to see it lean and nod;
    I love to feel the grassy sod
      Whose kindly breast will hold me last,
        Whose patient arms will fold me fast!--
          Fold me from sunshine and from song,
            Fold me from sorrow and from wrong:
              Through gleaming gates of Goldenrod
                I'll pass into the rest of God.
      - Mary Clemmer (Mary Clemmer Ames),
        Goldenrod (last stanza)

Nature lies disheveled, pale,
  With her feverish lips apart,--
    Day by day the pulses fail,
      Nearer to her bounding heart;
        Yet that slackened grasp doth hold
          Store of pure and genuine gold;
            Quick thou comest, strong and free,
              Type of all the wealth to be,--
                Goldenrod!
      - Elaine Goodale (Mrs. Charles A. Eastman),
        Goldenrod

I know the lands are lit
  With all the autumn blaze of Goldenrod.
      - Helen Hunt Jackson (Helen Hunt),
        Asters and Goldenrod

Because its myriad glimmering plumes
  Like a great army's stir and wave;
    Because its golden billows blooms,
      The poor man's barren walks to lave:
        Because its sun-shaped blossoms show
          How souls receive the light of God,
            And unto earth give back that glow--
              I thank him for the Goldenrod.
      - Lucy Larcom, Goldenrod

Welcome, dear Goldenrod, once more,
  Thou mimic, flowering elm!
    I always think that Summer's store
      Hangs from thy laden stem.
      - Horace Elisha Scudder,
        To the Goldenrod at Midsummer

And in the evening, everywhere
  Along the roadside, up and down,
    I see the golden torches flare
      Like lighted street-lamps in the town.
      - Frank Dempster Sherman, Golden-Rod

The hollows are heavy and dank
  With the steam of the Goldenrods.
      - Bayard Taylor, The Guests of Night

Graceful, tossing plume of glowing gold,
  Waving lonely on the rocky ledge;
    Leaning seaward, lovely to behold,
      Clinging to the high cliff's ragged edge.
      - Celia Leighton Thaxter, Seaside Goldenrod


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Last Revised: 2013 March 16
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