I KNOW a way 
Of hearing what the larks and linnets say: 
 The larks tell of the sunshine and the sky; 
 The linnets from the hedges make reply, 
And boast of hidden nests with mocking lay. 
 
 I know a way 
Of keeping near the rabbits at their play: 
 They tell me of the cool and shady nooks 
 Where waterfalls disturb the placid brooks 
That I may go and frolic in the spray. 
 
 I know a way 
Of catching dewdrops on a night in May, 
 And threading them upon a spear of green, 
 That through their sides translucent may be seen 
The sparkling hue that emeralds display. 
 
 I know a way 
Of trapping sunbeams as they nimbly play 
 At hide-and-seek with meadow-grass and flowers, 
 And holding them in store for dreary hours 
When winds are chill and all the sky is gray.
 
 I know a way 
Of stealing fragrance from the new-mown hay 
 And storing it in flasks of petals made, 
 To scent the air when all the flowers fade 
And leave the woodland world to sad decay. 
 
 I know a way 
Of coaxing snowflakes in their flight to stay 
 So still awhile, that, as they hang in air, 
 I weave them into frosty lace, to wear 
About my head upon a sultry day.