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C.D. Warner, et al., comp.  The Library of the World’s Best Literature.
An Anthology in Thirty Volumes.  1917.
 
The Wood-Wax
By Jones Very (1813–1880)
 
LAUGHING, midst its yellow blooms,
At the fire that it consumes,
Springs the wood-wax every year;
It has naught from man to fear.
 
From the turnpike’s grassy side,        5
See it flourish far and wide,
On the steep and rocky hills:
Naught the wood-wax hurts or kills.
 
Glorious sight in summer-time
’Tis, to see it in its prime,        10
With its spikes of flowers untold,
Covering all the hills with gold!
 
Though a plant of stranger race,
It with us has found a place;
Vain the farmer’s art or toil        15
That would drive it from the soil.
 
Vain in winter is the fire
Which he kindles in his ire;
Still it laughs, amidst its blooms,
At the flame that it consumes.        20
 
 
CONTENTS · GENERAL INDEX · SONGS & LYRICS · BIOGRAPHICAL DICTIONARY
READER’S DIGEST · STUDENT’S COURSE · BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD
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