Sweep and sweep and sweep the floor,
Sweep the dust, pick up the pin; Make it clean from fire to door,
Clean for father to come in!
Mother said that God goes sweeping,
Looking, sweeping with a broom, All the time that we are sleeping,
For a shilling in the room:
Did he drop it out of glory,
Walking far above the birds? Or did parson make the story
For the thinking afterwards?
If I were the swept-for shilling
I would hearken through the gloom; Roll out fast, and fall down willing
Right before the sweeping broom!