Classic Poem

" HERE are more and more, and here are ever so many, "
Dimpled and brown and breathless, he hurries to me to say:
" This is the reddest of all and this is the bluest of any
I have brought you every one there was in the world this day. "

Yes, they are sweet, so sweet that each by itself is better
Than the grains of gold in the sands or the seeds of pearl in the sea;
So sweet that you could n't spell how sweet with every letter
In Shakespeare's book, nor write how sweet if you were as great as he.

But flowers, and flowers, and flowers, all crowded and crushed together,
They tire one just a little, if they are pretty, you know; —
The earth has nothing to do but blossom, this indolent weather.
You may take them all away — and bring me one when there's snow.