THE GOLD THAT KNOWS NO MISER'S HOLD 



It's the yellow kingscup— or the Ibvely, laughing marsh marigold. Like spilled sun- 

 shine In the damp, low places. Its leaves are so shiny they look varnished. The 

 petals are shiny, too. It's beautiful in old copper vases, In shadowy nooks of your 

 library. 



Its treasure is,surely 



"The gold that lifts, not weighs us down. 



The gold that banks not in the town, 



But singing, laughing, freely spills 



It's hoard far up the happy hills — 



Far up, far down, at every turn — 



What beggar has not gold to burn? (Joaquin Miller) 



