Flies from flower to flower to drain
The choicest juice from sweetest vein;
While the lowly cottage youth,
His mind well stored with sacred truth,
Rises, devout, his thanks to pay,
And hails the welcome dawn of day.
Oh, that ’twere mine, the happy lot,
To dwell within the peaceful cot—
There rise, each morn, my thanks to pay,
And hail the welcome dawn of day!”