How doth the little busy bee Improve each shining hour, And gather honey all the day From every opening flower. How skilfully she builds her cell; How neat she spreads her wax, And labors hard to store it well With the sweet food she makes. In works of labor or of skill, I would be busy too; For Satan finds some mischief still For idle hands to do. In books, or work, or healthful play, Let my first years be passed; That I may give for every day Some good account at last. |