I’ll find philosophy in flowers,
Astronomy in heaven!
Yon morning-glory shuts its leaves,
A worm creeps out from under;
Ye volumes, take the hint she gives,
And let the book-worm wander!
I’ll scan no more old Virgil’s verse,
I’d rather scan the heavens;
I’ll leave the puzzling Rule-of-Three
At sixes and at sevens;