The Grass So Little Has To Do

The grass so little has to do, –

A sphere of simple green

With only butterflies to brood

And bees to entertain

And stir all day to pretty tunes

The breezes fetch along

And hold the sunshine in its lap

And bow to everything;

And thread the dews all night, like pearls

And make itself so fine, –

A duchess were too common

For such a noticing

And even when it dies, to pass

In odors so divine

As lowly spices gone to sleep

Or amulets of pine

And then to dwell in sovereign barns

And dream the days away, –

The grass so little has to do

I wish I were the hay!