81 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.SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
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