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 n^v- 7 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 soffg, in warmth increasing ever, And seems to one in drowsiness half lost, The grasshopper’s among some grassy hills. - —J. KEATS.
Permanent link to this item
https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/TS19231208.2.129.4
Bibliographic details
Star (Christchurch), Issue 17218, 8 December 1923, Page 4 (Supplement)
Word Count
118ON THE GRASSHOPPER AND CRICKET. Star (Christchurch), Issue 17218, 8 December 1923, Page 4 (Supplement)
Using This Item
Star Media Company Ltd is the copyright owner for the Star (Christchurch). You can reproduce in-copyright material from this newspaper for non-commercial use under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International licence (CC BY-NC-SA 4.0). This newspaper is not available for commercial use without the consent of Star Media. For advice on reproduction of out-of-copyright material from this newspaper, please refer to the Copyright guide.