The Grass So Little Has To Do

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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-
Like Lowly spices, lain to sleep-
Or Spikenards, perishing-

And then, in Sovereign Barns to dwell-
And dream the Days away,
The Grass so little has to do
I wish I were a Hay-