Classic Poem

All day long he has been busy
—Little barrows trundling round
—One especial plot of ground;
I should think he must be dizzy.

Not the little busy bee,
—Not the merchant in the City,
—Not the Brotherhood of Pity,
E'er was busier than he.

When the Sun got up this morning
—He to feed the flowers began
—With a scarlet watering-can,
Rest and sleep and breakfast scorning.

Now the Sun has all but set,
—On the very selfsame flowers
—Still dispensing liberal showers
See, the gardener's happy yet.