At yon boundaries are shrubs,
Waiting like unlit chapel bulbs,

Under are flowers also plugged,
Within wet soil, grabbing waters,

Rains once pelted withal seeds,
Into the skies they both breathe,

Under earth, worms wriggle up,
Graduating in swirls to the sun,

On blankets of grass are daisies,
Wildly napping a dreamy breeze,

Thrushes in rushes joyfully sing,
Lilt of lullabies from skies begin,

Songbirds dropping windy hues,
The giddy butterflies justly knew,

What bees do bounces, busy for,
Such patchwork paradise galore.