Sketches from Life in Dixie | ||
111
THE GOLDEN ROD.
There is a calm and solemn air
Along the road, by garden fair,
By rushing stream, and ev'rywhere
The sear and yellow leaf's aglow.
Along the road, by garden fair,
By rushing stream, and ev'rywhere
The sear and yellow leaf's aglow.
The foliage is growing old;
All through the verdure gleams the gold;
The rose is turning into mold;
But golden rod stands ev'rywhere.
All through the verdure gleams the gold;
The rose is turning into mold;
But golden rod stands ev'rywhere.
O'er the lea and across the mead,
And far away where the cattle feed,
There blows the yellow crested reed,
The autumnal queen of flowers.
And far away where the cattle feed,
There blows the yellow crested reed,
The autumnal queen of flowers.
Its golden crown along the way,
Sways back and forth, and seems to say,
“I am fair Flora's Queen today,
And the wind's my messenger boy.
Sways back and forth, and seems to say,
“I am fair Flora's Queen today,
And the wind's my messenger boy.
“And further on the wind's low wail
Proclaims my reign along the dale,
Till the tired harvester drops his flail
And hails me queen of the flowers.”
Proclaims my reign along the dale,
Till the tired harvester drops his flail
And hails me queen of the flowers.”
Sketches from Life in Dixie | ||