A child said, What is the grass? fetching it to me with full hands;
is any more than he.
How could I answer the child?. . . .I do not know what it
green stuff woven.
I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful
Or I guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord, may see and remark, and say Whose?
A scented gift and remembrancer designedly dropped,
Bearing the owner’s name someway in the corners, that we of the vegetation.
Or I guess the grass is itself a child. . . .the produced babe.
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