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.