Suppose the lit­tle cow­slip
Should hang its gold­en cup,
And say, I’m such a ti­ny flow­er,
I’d bet­ter not grow up!
How ma­ny a wea­ry tra­vel­er
Would miss the frag­rant smell,
How ma­ny a lit­tle child would grieve
To lose it from the dell.
How many a lit­tle child would grieve
To lose it, to lose it,
To lose it from the dell.

Suppose the glist­en­ing dew drop
Upon the grass, should say,
What can a lit­tle dew drop do?
I’d bet­ter roll away!
The blade on which it rest­ed,
Before the day was done,
Without a drop to moist­en it,
Would wi­ther in the sun.
Without a drop to moist­en it,
Would wi­ther, would wi­ther,
Would wi­ther in the sun.

Suppose the lit­tle breez­es,
Upon a sum­mer’s day,
Should think them­selves too small to cool
The tra­vel­er on his way;
Who would not miss the small­est
And soft­est ones that blow,
And think they made a great mis­take
In talk­ing ever so,
And think they made a great mis­take
In talk­ing, in talk­ing,
In talk­ing ev­er so.

How ma­ny deeds of kind­ness
A lit­tle child may do,
Although it has so lit­tle strength,
And lit­tle wis­dom, too.
It wants a lov­ing spirit,
Much more than strength, to prove
How ma­ny things a child may do,
For oth­ers by his love.
How ma­ny things a child may do,
For oth­ers, for oth­ers,
For oth­ers by his love.