Gold! Gold! Gold! Gold! Bright

How Widely Its Agencies Vary,- To Save, To Ruin, To Curse, To Bless,- As Even Its Minted Coins Express, Now Stamp'd With The Image Of Good Queen Bess, And Now Of A Bloody Mary.

Extremes Meet', As The Whiting Said With Its Tail In Its Mouth.

The Cowslip Is A Country Wench.

I Remember, I Remember The Roses, Red And White, The Violets, And The Lily-cups, Those Flowers Made Of Light! The Lilacs, Where The Robin Built, And Where My Brother Set The Laburmum On His Birthday,- The Tree Is Living Yet.

The Lily Is All In White, Like A Saint, And So Is No Mate For Me.