"Inty, minty,

Cutey, corn!

Apple-seed,

Apple-thorn!

Wire, brier,

Limber lock;

Seven geese

In a flock,

Sit and sing, by the spring;

O-u-t, out, and in again."

Inklings and meanings,

Sprinklings and gleanings,

Shimmers and glints.

That's how the light comes

Down from the sides;

That's how the beauty

Is born to our eyes.

The seed is within,

And the thorn is without:

Nature's sweet secret

Is guarded about.

Yet briers are slender,

Locks are but slight,

To touch of a genius

That searches with light.

White by the fountain

Sit the calm seven;

Unto their joyance

Its music is given.

The world looketh on,

And still wonders in vain,

As they go out and in,

And find pasture again.