A child went wandering through a wood
Upon a summer day;
She hoped to meet some pretty thing
To join her in her play.
The cloudless sky above was blue,
The grass beneath was green,
And all around were lovely flowers,
The brightest ever seen.
A honey-bee went humming by—
“Stay, little bee!” she cried,
“Oh, do come back and play with me.”
And thus the bee replied:
“I cannot stay, I must away,
And gather in my store,
For winter drear will soon be here,
When I can work no more.”
She heard a pigeon cooing soft
High in the bough above—
“Come down, and play a while with me,
My pretty, gentle dove.”
“I cannot come and play with thee,
For I must guard my nest,
And keep my sleeping children war
Beneath my downy breast."
She saw a squirrel gathering nuts
Upon a tall beech tree—
“I love to see you bound and leap;
Come down and play with me.”
“I dare not play, I must away,
And quickly homeward hie;
Were I to stay, my little ones
For want of food must die.”
She came unto a stream that leaped
Between its rocky banks—
“Stay, pretty stream, and play with me,
And you shall have my thanks.”
The stream replied, while in the pool
A moment it stood still,
“I cannot play, I must away
And drive the village mill.”
The child sat down upon a stone,
And hung her little head:
She wept a while, and sobbed a while,
Then to herself she said:
“The stream, the squirrel, dove and bee
Have all got work to do;
I must not play my hours away—
I must be busy too.”