Th’ ambrosia of the Gods’s a weed on earth,
Their nectar is the morning dew which on-
Ly our shoes taste, for they are simple folks.
’T is very fit the ambrosia of the gods
Should be a weed on earth, as nectar is
The morning dew which our shoes brush aside;
For the gods are simple folks, and we should pine upon their humble fare.
The purple flowers of the humble trichostema mingled with the wormwood, smelling like it; and the spring-scented, dandelion-scented primrose, yellow primrose. The swamp-pink (Azalea viscosa), its now withered pistils standing out.
The odoriferous sassafras, with its delicate green stem, its three-lobed leaf, tempting the traveller to bruise it, it sheds so rare a perfume on him, equal to all the spices of the East. Then its rare-tasting root bark, like nothing else, which I used to dig. The first navigators freighted their ships with it and deemed it worth its weight in gold.
The alder-leaved clethra (Clethra alnifolia), sweet-smelling queen of the swamp; its long white racemes.