Green Which children pluck, and, full of pride uphold, High-hearted buccaneers, o'erjoyed that they An Eldorado in the grass have found, Things Cirowing Which not the rich earth's ample round May match in wealth, thou art more dear to me Than all the prouder summer-blooms may be. JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd, A host, of golden daffodils, Continuous as the stars that shine The waves beside them danced, but they A poet could not but be gay In such a jocund company. I gazed, and gazed, but little thought For oft, when on my couch I lie In vacant or in pensive mood, Green Things Growing They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude; And dances with the daffodils. WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. The White Anemone 'Tis the white anemone, fashioned so Of pale primroses puritan, In maiden sisterhood demure; Each virgin floweret faint and wan With the bliss of her own sweet breath so pure. OWEN MEREDITH. (Edward Robert Bulwer-Lytton.), The Grass The grass so little has to do, A sphere of simple green, With only butterflies to brood, And bees to entertain, And stir all day to pretty tunes And thread the dews all night, like pearls, A duchess were too common For such a noticing. And even when it dies, to pass In odors so divine, As lowly spices gone to sleep, Or amulets of pine. And then to dwell in sovereign barns, And dream the days away, The grass so little has to do, I wish I were the hay! EMILY DICKINSON. Green Things Growing Green Things Growing The Corn-Song Heap high the farmer's wintry hoard! Heap high the golden corn! Let other lands, exulting, glean The apple from the pine, We better love the hardy gift Our rugged vales bestow, To cheer us when the storm shall drift Through vales of grass and meads of flowers, We dropped the seed o'er hill and plain, And frightened from our sprouting grain All through the long, bright days of June And waved in hot midsummer's noon |