Don't you hear the fairy bugles, and the tinkle of the bells?
And see the baby bumble-bees that tumble in the clover,
And dangle from the tilted pinks and tipsy pimpernels?
And don't you see the merry faces of the daffodillies,
And the jolly johnny-jump-ups, and the buttercups a-glee,
And the low, lolling ripples ring around the water-lilies,
All greeting us with laughter to the Land of Used-to-be?
And here among the blossoms of the blooming vines and grasses,
With a haze forever hanging in a sky forever blue,
And with a breeze from over seas to kiss us as it passes,