And the Poppy’s pepper-caster;
The Rose’s scarlet reticule,
And the somber box of the Aster;
Nasturtion’s biting brandy-flask,
Infused with a wholesome smart;
And the Milkweed’s knot of white floss silk,
Which will not come apart;
For next to the bud where the Poppy nods,
And the sweet Moss-rose—are the late Seed-pods.’”
“Yes,” said Mary, “pods are very pretty.”