HURRY! Hurry! Hurry!

Don't you see the sun,

Pretty Morning-Glories—

Work not yet begun?

Don't you know the morning

Is your little hour,

And how soon you’re drooping

If a cloud should lower?

Open quick your petals,

Swift to greet the day.

Higher! Higher! Higher!

Catch the first bright ray.

So be up and doing,

Children of the sun;

For your chief adorning

All his beams are spun.




Elizabeth A. Davis