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On The Grasshopper And Cricket

Rating: 2.9
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
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COMMENTS
David Wood 19 May 2013
The poetry of Keats in never dead You speak to us all from beyond the grave Your poetry is alive and well read And is today in the world all the rave.
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