A Day in the Garden

A Day in the Garden

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 Grasshopper's among some grassy hills.

On the Grasshopper and Cricket by John Keats

Back to Digital Art Index

Digital Art

Take me back Home