Her Joy Job
I feel fine dear friends to find with joy here
That the bubbles I raise in my small glass
Can come across your eyes my dear reader
To wet in your garden some blades of grass
I have only a few good cups with me
And that too not always subservient
Even if I can keep me mostly free
Colored bubbles hardly find easy vent
Though I want to be under your wide eye
My cups being fixed I hardly can do
Raise as many drops as would underlie
And spread my wordy grin my dear to you
Still this bubbling from my limited bowls
Remains a joy job to my starving souls
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