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.

Collection: 
English
Jean Ingelow
Sub Title: 
Poems of Home: I. About Children

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