On the Grasshopper and Cricket
The poetry of earth is never dead:
When all the birds are faint with the hot sun,
And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run
From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead;
That is the Grasshopper's — he takes the lead
In summer luxury, — he has never done
With his delights; for when tired out with fun
He rests at ease beneath some pleasant weed.
The poetry of earth is ceasing never:
On a lone winter evening, when the frost
Has wrought a silence, from the stove there shrills
The Cricket's song, in warmth increasing ever,
And seems to one in drowsiness half lost,
The Grasshopper's among some grassy hills.
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John Keats (1795-1821)
from Poems, 1817
[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]
"On the Grasshopper and Cricket", from Keats: The Musical, sung by Natalie Oak. Courtesy YouTube.
Oh that is welcome, a sonnet of the designated 14 lines but minus the stanza division. I appreciate iambic pentameter, I just do. The grasshopper hiding there somewhere. Lovely poem George Dance. 💟💟💟💟💟💟
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