The Ragged Regiment

I love the ragged veterans of June, Not your trim troop drill-marshalled for display In gardens fine,—but such as dare the noon With saucy faces by the public way. Moth-mullein, with its moth-wing petals white, Round Dandelion, and flouncing Bouncing-Bet, The golden Butter-and-Eggs, and Ox-eye bright, Wild Parsley, and tall Milkweed bee-beset. Ha, sturdy tramps of Nature, mustered out From garden service, scorned and set apart,⁠— There’s not one member of your ragged rout But makes a warmth of welcome in my heart.