But here is the difference: if the golden-rod has
smaller houses, it has more of them together upon one stem. I have never
counted them, but you can, now that they are in bloom, and tell me how
many.
And have you ever noticed how gracefully these great companies are
arranged? For the golden-rods are like elm-trees in their forms: some
grow in one single, tall plume, bending over a little at the top; some
in a double or triple plume, so that the nodding heads may bend on each
side; but the largest are like the great Etruscan elms, many branches
rising gracefully from the main stem and curving over on every side,
like those tall glass vases which, I dare say, you have all seen.
Do not forget, when you are looking at these golden plumes, that each
one, as it tosses in the wind, is rocking its hundreds of little
dwellings, with the fathers, mothers, babies, and all.
When you go out for golden-rod and asters, you will find also the great
purple thistle, one of those cousins who has adopted the same plan of
living. It is so prickly that I advise you not to attempt breaking it
off, but only with your finger-tips push softly down into the purple
tassel; and if the thistle is ripe, as I think it will be in these
autumn days, you will feel a bed of softest down under the spreading
purple top. A little gentle pushing will set the down all astir, and I
can show you how the children are about to take leave of the home where
they were born and brought up.
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