Poems (Mary Coleridge)/Poem 195

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CXCV A CHILD'S DAY
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.
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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 showersSee, the gardener's happy yet.

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