Seven Times One by Jean Ingelow

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! 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’ll 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 Marshmary 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.