I know these things, yet hold it little blame
To know them not, though in their proud array,
The flowers advance to make the world so gay.
Ah, what a change! The things I know by name
Look unfamiliar all, and, like a flame,
The roses burn upon the hedge to-day.
VII.
The grass is velvet. There are pearls thereon,
And golden signs, and braid that doth appear
Made for a bridal. This is fairy gear