A sepal, petal, and a thorn
Upon a common summer's morn --
A flask of Dew -- A Bee or two --
A Breeze -- a caper in the trees --
And I'm a Rose!

Distrustful of the Gentian --
And just to turn away,
The fluttering of her fringes
Child my perfidy --
Weary for my ----------
I will singing go --
I shall not feel the sleet -- then --
I shall not fear the snow.

Flees so the phantom meadow
Before the breathless Bee --
So bubble brooks in deserts
On Ears that dying lie --
Burn so the Evening Spires
To Eyes that Closing go --
Hangs so distant Heaven --
To a hand below.

We lose -- because we win --
Gamblers -- recollecting which
Toss their dice again!

All these my banners be.
I sow my pageantry
In May --
It rises train by train --
Then sleeps in state again --
My chancel -- all the plain
Today.

To lose -- if one can find again --
To miss -- if one shall meet --
The Burglar cannot rob -- then --
The Broker cannot cheat.
So build the hillocks gaily
Thou little spade of mine
Leaving nooks for Daisy
And for Columbine --
You and I the secret
Of the Crocus know --
Let us chant it softly --
"There is no more snow!"

To him who keeps an Orchis' heart --
The swamps are pink with June.

I had a guinea golden --
I lost it in the sand --
And tho' the sum was simple
And pounds were in the land --
Still, had it such a value
Unto my frugal eye --
That when I could not find it --
I sat me down to sigh.

I had a crimson Robin --
Who sang full many a day
But when the woods were painted,
He, too, did fly away --

Time brought me other Robins --
Their ballads were the same --
Still, for my missing Troubador
I kept the "house at hame."

I had a star in heaven --
One "Pleiad" was its name --
And when I was not heeding,
It wandered from the same.
And tho' the skies are crowded --
And all the night ashine --
I do not care about it --
Since none of them are mine.

My story has a moral --
I have a missing friend --
"Pleiad" its name, and Robin,
And guinea in the sand.
And when this mournful ditty
Accompanied with tear --
Shall meet the eye of traitor
In country far from here --
Grant that repentance solemn
May seize upon his mind --
And he no consolation
Beneath the sun may find.

There is a morn by men unseen --
Whose maids upon remoter green
Keep their Seraphic May --
And all day long, with dance and game,
And gambol I may never name --
Employ their holiday.

Here to light measure, move the feet
Which walk no more the village street --
Nor by the wood are found --
Here are the birds that sought the sun
When last year's distaff idle hung
And summer's brows were bound.

Ne'er saw I such a wondrous scene --
Ne'er such a ring on such a green --
Nor so serene array --
As if the stars some summer night
Should swing their cups of Chrysolite --
And revel till the day --

Like thee to dance -- like thee to sing --
People upon the mystic green --
I ask, each new May Morn.
I wait thy far, fantastic bells --
Unto the different dawn!

She slept beneath a tree --
Remembered but by me.
I touched her Cradle mute --
She recognized the foot --
Put on her carmine suit
And see!

It's all I have to bring today --
This, and my heart beside --
This, and my heart, and all the fields --
And all the meadows wide --
Be sure you count -- should I forget
Some one the sum could tell --
This, and my heart, and all the Bees
Which in the Clover dwell.

Morns like these -- we parted --
Noons like these -- she rose --
Fluttering first -- then firmer
To her fair repose.

Never did she lisp it --
It was not for me --
She -- was mute from transport --
I -- from agony --

Till -- the evening nearing
One the curtains drew --
Quick! A Sharper rustling!
And this linnet flew!

So has a Daisy vanished
From the fields today --
So tiptoed many a slipper
To Paradise away --

Oozed so in crimson bubbles
Day's departing tide --
Blooming -- tripping -- flowing
Are ye then with God?