The Worker Bee

Through the fields of nodding clover
Comes a dainty little rover;
On from bud to blossom hasting,
Not the smallest moment wasting.
Ever gay and uncomplaining,
Nature's honeyed chalice draining;
Merry little worker bee,
Ev'ry day a jubilee.

Past the "red-cap's" fragrant bower
To a modest sister flower,
In whose tender heart reposes
All the sweets of all the roses;
Then with golden trophies laden
Homeward hums this busy maiden;
Merry little worker bee,
Ev'ry day a jubilee.