Jean Ingelow

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 am 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 are 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 Cuckoo-pint! toll me the purple clapper,

That hangs in your clear, green bell!

And show me your 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 to-day.