The Grass so little has to do

 The Grass so little has to do -
 A Sphere of simple Green -  (or blue!) 
 With only Butterflies to brood
 And Bees to entertain -

 And stir all day to pretty Tunes
 The Breezes fetch along -
 And hold the Sunshine in its lap
 And bow to everything -

 And thread the Dews, all night, like Pearls -
 And make itself so fine
 A Duchess were too common
 For such a noticing -

 And even when it dies - to pass
 In Odors so divine -
 Like Lowly spices, lain to sleep -
 Or Spikenards, perishing -

 And then, in Sovereign Barns to dwell -
 And dream the Days away,
 The Grass so little has to do
 I wish I were a Hay -

-- Emily Dickinson

(I added the two words in italics to the poem, to agree with the photo of Fescue 'Elijah Blue'.  Apologies to Miss Dickinson)