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| THERE’S no dew left on the daisies and clover, | |
| There’s no rain left in heaven. | |
| I ’ve said my “seven times” over and over,— | |
| Seven times one are seven. | |
| |
| I am old,—so old I can write a letter; | 5 |
| My birthday lessons are done. | |
| The lambs play always,—they know no better; | |
| They are only one times one. | |
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| O Moon! in the night I have seen you sailing | |
| And shining so round and low. | 10 |
| You were bright—ah, bright—but your light is failing; | |
| You are nothing now but a bow. | |
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| You Moon! have you done something wrong in heaven, | |
| That God has hidden your face? | |
| I hope, if you have, you will soon be forgiven, | 15 |
| And shine again in your place. | |
| |
| O velvet Bee! you ’re a dusty fellow,— | |
| You ’ve powdered your legs with gold. | |
| O brave marsh Mary-buds, rich and yellow, | |
| Give me your money to hold! | 20 |
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| O Columbine! open your folded wrapper, | |
| Where two twin turtle-doves dwell! | |
| O Cuckoo-pint! toll me the purple clapper | |
| That hangs in your clear green bell! | |
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| And show me your nest with the young ones in it,— | 25 |
| I will not steal them away; | |
| I am old! you may trust me, linnet, linnet! | |
| I am seven times one to-day. | |
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