We should not mind so small a flower --

Except it quiet bring

Our little garden that we lost

Back to the Lawn again.

So spicy her Carnations nod --

So drunken, reel her Bees --

So silver steal a hundred flutes

From out a hundred trees --

That whoso sees this little flower

By faith may clear behold

The Bobolinks around the throne

And Dandelions gold.