Little Workers, A child—it is a little thing

SAW a little flake of snow
Fall down towards the land;
'Twas such a tender little thing,
It rested on my hand.
But after, when I went abroad,
And looked on field and hill,
The snow had covered everything,
And all the land was still.

I saw a little daisy-bud
Peep upwards through the green;
It was a tiny little flower,
And yet it promised spring.
And when the summer days had come,
The little blossoms fair
Had made a carpet red and white
That covered everywhere.

A child—it is a little thing,
How weak its hands! how small!
What tiny footsteps it doth take,
How soon 'twill slip and fall!
Yet all the wonders of the world.
The towers and castles fair,
Were thought and planned and built by men,
Who once small children were.