The Goldenrod Is Yellow, The Corn Is

No Days Such Honored Days As These! While Yet Fair Aphrodite Reigned, Men Seeking Wide For Some Fair Thing Which Should Forever Bide On Earth, Her Beauteous Memory To Set In Fitting Frame That No Age Could Forget, Her Name In Lovely April's Name Did Hide, And Leave It There, Eternally Allied To All The Fairest Flowers Spring Did Beget.

Who Waits Until The Wind Shall Silent Keep Will Never Find The Ready Hour To Sow.

Ah, March! We Know Thou Art Kind-hearted, Spite Of Ugly Looks And Threats, And, Out Of Sight, Art Nursing April's Violets!

On The King's Gate The Moss Grew Gray;the King Came Not. They Called Him Deadand Made His Eldest Son One Dayslave In His Father's Stead.

O Bees, Sweet Bees!" I Said; "that Nearest Field Is Shining White With Fragrant Immortelles Fly Swiftly There And Drain Those Honey Wells.