Goldenrod
“How in this world did I happen to bloom
all by myself, alone,
By the side of a dusty, country road,
With only a rough old stone.
“For Company?” and the goldenrod,
As she dropped her yellow head,
gave a mournful sigh.
“Who cares for me,
or knows I’m alive?” She said.
“A snow-white daisy I’d like to be,
Half hid is the cool green sod;
Or a pink spirea, or sweet wild rose-
But I’m only a goldenrod.
Nobody knows that I’m here
Nor cares whether I love or die!
Lovers of beautiful flowers,
Who wants such a common thing as I?”
But all of a sudden she ceased her plaint
For a child’s voice cried out in glee
“Here’s a dear little lovely goldenrod!
Did you bloom on purpose for me?
Down by the brook the tall spirea
And purple asters nod,
And beckon to me— but more then all
Do I love you goldenrod!”
She raised the flower to her rosy lips
And merrily kissed its face
“Ah now I see” said the goldenrod
“How this is the very place.
That was meant for me and I’m glad I bloomed
Just here by the road alone
With nobody near for company
But a dear old mossy stone.”
“My mother, learned this poem as a school child and often recited this poem, as a bedtime story. The poem was published in a book, entitled, "Flower Stories," written by Lenore E. Mulets. Published by Phyllis Field Friends.” - Elaine