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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; 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. |