The lark is up to meet the sun,
— The bee is on the wing,
The anTher labor has begun,
— The woods with music ring.

Shall birds and bees and ants be wise,
— While I my moments waste?
Oh, let me with the morning rise,
— And to my duties haste.

Why should I sleep till beams of morn
— Their light and glory shed?
Immortal beings were not born
— To waste their time in bed.