How doth the little busy bee
Improve each shining hour,
And gather honey all the day
From ev'ry open flow'r ?
How skillfully she builds her cell.
How neat she spreads her wax;
And labours hard to store it well
With the sweet food she makes.
In works of labour or of skill,
I would be busy too;
For Satan finds some mischief still
For idle hands to do.
In books, or works, or healthy play
Let my first years be passed,
That I may give for ev'ry day
Some good account at last."
--Isaac Watts, aka the "Fatherof English Hymnody," 1715
inspired by this post, (among other things). Thanks, Ren.