Classic Poem

How busie are the sonnes of men?
How full their heads and hands?
What noyse and tumults in our owne,
And eke in Pagan lands?

Yet I have found lesse noyse, more peace
In wilde America,
Where women quickly build the house,
And quickly move away.

English and Indians busie are,
In parts of their abode:
Yet both stand idle, till God's call
Set them to worke for God.