Asters and Goldenrod

Asters and golden-rod, yellow and blue,
Tulips and violets long ago fled;
Summer with roses and lilies is dead;
Whence, in the year's old age, came you,
In pomp of purple and golden hue? 

"Out of the Summer's heart we came,
Born of her lifelong ardor and glow
In the sky above and the ground below;
Her drenching showers and her solar flame;
​Till, just as she died, she spoke our name.

"Strangers and exiles in disguise,
Through all the summer we've stood alone,
Our worth unguessed, unprized, and unknown,
Mere rough, rank weeds to men's untaught eyes,
​ For the world to trample, neglect, despise. 

"But patient and silent we grew and grew,
Drinking the noontide's liquid gold,
Drinking the colors the raindrops hold,
The tints that sparkle in morning's dew,
​And night's deep azure, when stars shine through. 

"We drank till our life could hold no more
The secrets gorging our crystal blood,
The splendors swelling each bursting bud,
Drawn from the deep earth's dazzling store,
​Or rainbows bending creation o'er. 

"And then in a whisper the Summer said: '
My lowly children, I die to-day.
Put on your purple and gold array,
And wave in glory above my head,
​Confessed and royal, when I am dead.' 

"One glowing kiss, and the Summer died;
But, thrilled at the touch, and the words she spoke,
From all our being the splendor broke,
And field and forest and rough roadside
​Stood robed in more than imperial pride. 

"And that is our story, and whence we came:
All summer you slighted us, trod us down,
But we knew in the day of our robe and crown
Men then would prize us, and own our claim,
​And boast that all summer they'd known our name." 
                                                                                      ~George Lansing Taylor