The Voice of the Grass

Here I come creeping, creeping everywhere;

By the dusty roadside,

On the sunny hill-side,

Close by the noisy brook,

In every shady nook,

I come creeping, creeping everywhere.

Here I come creeping, smiling everywhere;

All around the open door,

Where sit the aged poor;

Here where the children play,

In the bright and merry May,

I come creeping, creeping everywhere.

Here I come creeping, creeping everywhere;

In the noisy city street

My pleasant face you'll meet,

Cheering the sick at heart

Toiling his busy part,—

Silently creeping, creeping everywhere.

Here I come creeping, creeping everywhere;

You cannot see me coming,

Nor hear my low sweet humming;

For in the starry night,

And the glad morning light,

I come quietly creeping everywhere.

Here I come creeping, creeping everywhere;

More welcome than the flowers

In summer's pleasant hours;

The gentle cow is glad,

And the merry bird not sad,

To see me creeping, creeping everywhere.

Here I come creeping, creeping everywhere;

My humble song of praise

Most joyfully I raise

To him at whose command

I beautify the land,

Creeping, silently creeping everywhere.