| C.N. Douglas, comp. Forty Thousand Quotations: Prose and Poetical. 1917. | | | | Goldenrod |
| | | | I know the lands are lit |
| With all the autumn blaze of Goldenrod. |
Helen Hunt Jackson. | 1 |
| | Still the Goldenrod of the roadside clod |
| Is of all, the best! |
Simeon Tucker Clark. | 2 |
| | Welcome, dear Goldenrod, once more, |
| Thou mimic, flowering elm! |
| I always think that summer’s store |
| Hangs from thy laden stem. |
Horace H. Scudder. | 3 |
| | 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 Thaxter. | 4 |
| | 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. | 5 |
| | 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. | 6 |
| | 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. | 7 | | |
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