The oaks & open sky

Thro flowers & grass & many crippled brake 

Then garden clumps as nature wills to make 

Where oft he stands & pauses & admires 

& feels that happiness that never tires 

Now marking little tiny creeping things 

Creep on the leaves & then the coloured wings 

Of startled moth & eager butter flye 

That puzzled in the leaves & by & bye 

Mounts in the oaks & then the open sky

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