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.