Herb Yarrow by Annie Adams Fields

EVERYWHERE the Yarrow grows!⠀

Here and there the thistle blows,⠀

Here and there the barberries,⠀

By the brook the plumy fern;⠀

We know where the lily is,⠀

Where the dear wild roses burn;⠀

But the Yarrow everywhere⠀

Wanders on the common air.⠀

No one need to search for thee:⠀

Even now thy leaf I see⠀

Peeping o'er my opened book,⠀

Throwing so fair a shadow down,⠀

So perfect, that I can but look,⠀

And, looking, find new wonder crown⠀

The bliss of beauty which before⠀

Taught my spirit to adore. ⠀

In thy bitter odors blent⠀

Health we find, not discontent;⠀

In thy name a tender grief⠀

For that love once drowned in Yarrow⠀

Stream that never gave relief⠀

To the faithful "winsome marrow."⠀

Bitter Yarrow! Flowing Yarrow!⠀

Still lament thy winsome marrow!⠀

Emblem of our equal land,⠀

Where men and women helpful stand,⠀

And love and labor, high and low;⠀

Type of the low! Thou lovely plant!⠀

Teach the proud-hearted how to know ⠀

The sacred worth of Nature's grant, ⠀

The strength of bitterness, and the sweet ⠀

Humility of beauty's feet.