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.