Discussing what they shall do,
And doing nothing.
Stella, see that grasshopper
Climbing up the bank!
What a jump!
Almost as long as my arm.
Run, children, run.
For the grasshopper is leaping away,
In half-circle curves,
Shuttlecock curves,
Over the grasses.
Hand in hand, the little girls call to him:
Grandfather, grandfather gray,
Give me molasses, or Ill throw you away.
The grasshopper leaps into the sunlight,
Golden-green,
And is gone.
Lets catch a bee.
Round whirl the little girls,
And up the garden.
Two heads are thrust among the Canterbury bells,
Listening,
And fingers clasp and unclasp behind backs
In a strain of silence.
White bells,
Blue bells,
Hollow and reflexed.
Deep tunnels of blue and white dimness,
Cool wine-tunnels for bees.
There is a floundering and buzzing over Minnas head.
Bend it down, Stella. Quick! Quick!
The wide mouth of a blossom
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