SONGS AND CHORUS OF THE FLOWERS. 245 
We thread the earth in silence, 
In silence build our bowers— 
And leaf by leaf in silence show, till we laugh 
a-top, sweet flowers. 
The dear lumpish baby, 
Humming with the May-bee, 
Hails us with his bright star, stumbling through 
the grass; 
The honey-dropping moon, 
On a night in June, 
Kisses our pale pathway leaves, that felt the 
bridegroom pass. 
Age, the wither’d clinger, 
On us mutely gazes, 
And wraps the thought of his last bed in his 
childhood’s daisies. 
See (and scorn ail duller 
Taste) how heav’n loves color; 
How great Nature, clearly, joys in red and 
green;— 
What sweet thoughts she thinks 
Of violets and pinks, 
And a thousand flushing hues, made solely to 
be seen: 
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