SEVEN TIMES ONE,


 


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 'm old, so old, I can write a letter;


My birthday lessons are done;


The lambs play always, they know no better;


They are only one times one.


O moon! In the night I have seen you sailing,


And shining so round and low;


You were bright ah, bright but your light is failing,—


You're nothing now but a bow.


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!


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!


O columbine, open your folded wrapper,


Where two twin turtle-doves dwell!


O cuckoopint, toll me the purple clapper


That hangs in your clear green bell!


And show me the nest with the young ones in it;


I will not steal them away;


I am old! You may trust me, linnet, linnet—


I am seven times one today.


 


 


Jean Ingelow.