By orchards red he whisks along, A charioteer from villa fine; With passing lash o' the whip he cuts A way-side Weed divine. But knows he what it is he does? He flouts October's god Whose sceptre is this Way-side Weed, This swaying Golden Rod? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...YOUNG BULLFROGS by CARL SANDBURG VICTORY BELLS by GRACE HAZARD CONKLING CHANSON INNOCENTE: 2, FR. TULIPS by EDWARD ESTLIN CUMMINGS DIRGE (1) by RALPH WALDO EMERSON ON KEATS, WHO DESIRED THAT ON HIS TOMB SHOULD BE INSCRIBED: by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY |