A bumble-bee, yellow as gold,
Sat perched on a red-clover top,
When a grasshopper, wiry and old,
Came along with a skip and a hop.
“Good-morrow!” cried he, “Mr. Bumble-Bee!
You seem to have come to a stop.”
“We people that work,”
Said the bee with a jerk,
“Find a benefit sometimes in stopping;
Only insects like you,
Who have nothing to do,
Can keep up a perpetual hopping.”
The grasshopper paused on his way,
And thoughtfully hunched up his knees;
“Why trouble this sunshiny day,”
Quoth he, “with reflections like these?
I follow the trade for which I was made;
We all can’t be wise bumble-bees.
“There’s a time to be sad,
And a time to be glad;
A time both for working and stopping;
For men to make money,
For you to make honey,
And for me to do nothing but hopping.”
