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:     When you ’re numbered with the dead     In your still and narrow bed,     In the happy spring I ’ll come     And deck your silent home— Creeping, silently 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.