How doth the little busy Bee
Improve each shining Hour,
And gather Honey all the day
From every opening Flower!
How skilfully she builds her Cell!
How neat she spreads the Wax!
And labours hard to store it well
With the sweet Food she makes.
In Works of Labour or of Skill
I would be busy too:
For Satan finds some Mischief still
For idle Hands to do.
In Books, or Work, or healthful Play
Let my first Years be past,
That I may give for every Day
Some good Account at last.
Notes
Composition date is unknown - the above date represents the first publication date.
The lyrical form of this poem is abab.
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Comments
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It kind of has this melodic jest to it, I feel. It carries itself well in the message and the tone of the piece. I feel that perhaps in its day that it could have been a song or lyrical of sorts, but then again it could have just been a rhyme.
a good piece that Watts has written here.
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