When Robin's not a beggar,
And Jenny Wren's a bride;
And larks hang, singing, singing, singing,
Over the wheat-fields wide,
And anchored lilies ride,
And the pendulum spider,
Swings from side to side,

And blue-black beetles transact business,
And gnats fly in a host,
And furry caterpillars hasten
That no time be lost,
And moths grow fat and thrive,
And lady birds arrive,

Before green apples blush,
Before green nuts embrown,
Why, one day in the country
Is worth a month in town--
Is worth a day and a year
Of the dusty, musty, lag-last fashion
That days drone elsewhere.