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WEEDS
[ Also see Gardens Herbage Herbs Nature Plants Trees ]

Evyl weed ys sone y growe.
      - Unattributed Author,
        Harleian Library Manuscript

Call us not weeds. we are flowers of the sea.
      - Mrs. E.L. Aveline, The Mother's Fables

Great weeds do grow apace.
      - Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher,
        The Coxcomb (act IV, sc. 4)

Still must I on, for I am as a weed,
  Flung from the rock, on Ocean's foam, to sail
    Where'er the surge may sweep.
      - Lord Byron (George Gordon Noel Byron),
        Childe Harold (canto III, st. 2)

An ill weed grows apace.
      - George Chapman, An Humorous Day's Mirth

In the deep shadow of the porch
  A slender bind-weed springs,
    And climbs, like airy acrobat,
      The trellises, and swings
        And dances in the golden sun
          In fairy loops and rings.
      - Susan Coolidge (pseudonym of Sarah Chauncey Woolsey),
        Bind-Weed

And what is a weed? A plant whose virtues have not been discovered.
      - Ralph Waldo Emerson

The wolfsbane I should dread.
      - Thomas Hood, Flowers

To win the secret of a weed's plain heart.
      - James Russell Lowell, Sonnet XXV

The richest soil, if uncultivated, produces the rankest weeds.
      - Plutarch, Life of Caius Marcus Coriolanus

Now 'tis the spring, and weeds are shallow-rooted.
  Suffer them now, and they'll o'ergrow the garden
    And choke the herbs for want of husbandry.
      - William Shakespeare,
        King Henry the Sixth, Part II
         (Queen Margaret at III, i)

I will go root away
  The noisome weeds which without profit suck
    The soil's fertility from wholesome flowers.
      - William Shakespeare, King Richard II

The summer's flow'r is to the summer sweet,
  Though to itself it only live and die'
    But if that flow'r with base infection meet,
      The basest weed outbraves his dignity:
        For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds;
          Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds.
      - William Shakespeare, Sonnet XCIV

The even mead. that erst brought sweetly forth
  The freckled cowslip, burnet, and green clover,
    Wanting the scythe, all uncorrected, rank,
      Conceives by idleness, and nothing teems
        But hateful docks, rough thistles, kecksies, burrs,
          Losing both beauty and utility.
      - William Shakespeare,
        The Life of King Henry the Fifth
         (Burgundy at V, ii)

You thus employed, I will go root away
  The noisome weeds which without profit suck
    The soil's fertility from wholesome flowers.
      - William Shakespeare,
        The Tragedy of King Richard the Second
         (Gardener at III, iii)

Small herbs have grace; great weeds do grow apace.
      - William Shakespeare,
        The Tragedy of King Richard the Third
         (Duke of York at II, iv)


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