
GRASS IS IMMORTAL 
By Senator John J. Ingalls 
Lying in the sunshine among the 
buttercups and dandelions of May, 
scarcely higher in intelligence than 
the minute tenants of that mimic 
wilderness, our earliest recollections 
are of grass, and when the fitful 
fever is ended, and the foolish wran- 
gle of the market and forum is 
closed, grass heals over the scar 
which our descent into the bosom of 
the earth has made, and the carpet 
of the infant becomes the blanket of 
the dead. 
Grass is the forgiveness of Nature 
—her constant benediction. Fields 
trampled with battle, saturated with 
blood, torn with the ruts of cannon, 
erow green again with grass, and 
carnage is forgotten. Streets aban- 
doned by traffic become grass 
grown like rural lanes, and are oblit- 
erated. Forests decay, harvests per- 
ish, flowers vanish, but grass is im- 
mortal. 
Beleagured by the sullen hosts of 
winter, it withdraws into the im- 
pregnable fortress of its subterra- 
nean vitality, and emerges upon the 
first solicitation of spring. Sown by 
the winds, by wandering’ birds, pro- 
pagated by the subtle horticulture 
of the elements, which are its minis- 
ters and servants, it softens the rude 
outline of the world. Its tenacious 
fibres hold the earth in its place, and 
prevent its soluble components from 
washing into the wasting sea. It in- 
vades the solitude of deserts, climbs 
the inaccessible slopes and forbid- 
ding pinnacles of mountains, modi- 
fies climates, and determines the 
history, character, and destiny of 
nations. 
Unobtrusive and patient, it has 
immortal vigor and aggression. Ban- 
ished from the thoroughfares and 
the field, it abides its time to return, 
and when vigilance is relaxed, or the 
dynasty has perished, it silently re- 
sumes the throne from which it has 
been expelled, but which it never ab- 
dicates. It bears no blazonry of 
bloom to charm the senses with fra- 
grance or splendor, but its homely 
hue is more enchanting than the lily 
or the rose. It yields no fruit in 
earth or air, and yet should its har- 
vest fail for a single year, famine 
would depopulate the earth. 
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