THE SEEDSMAN.
Reading edition
HOW doth the busy nurseryman Improve each shining hour; And peddle cions, sprouts and seeds Of every shrub and flower. How busily he wags his chin, How neat he spreads his store, And sells us things that never grew And won’t grow any more. Who showed the little man the way To sell the women seed? Who taught him how to blow and lie And coax and beg and plead? He taught himself, the nurseryman; And when his day is done, We’ll plant him where the lank rag weeds Will flutter in the sun. But oh, although we plant him deep Beneath the buttercup, He’s so much like the seed he sells, He never will come up.