Friday, June 17, 2016

Poem: Ants

The busy ant works hard all day
And never stops to rest or play.
He carries things ten times his size,
And never grumbles, whines or cries.
And even climbing flower stalks,
He always runs, he never walks.
He loves his work, he never tires,
And never puffs, pants or perspires. 
Yet though I praise his boundless vim
I am not really fond of him.

No comments:

Post a Comment