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.