Song Of The Grasshopper
Song of the Grasshopper
2026
I saw a brown old grasshopper,
And he sat upon a stone,
While ever and anon he chirped
In a sad and mournful tone:
And many an anxious, troubled look
He cast around the naked plain
Where now was but a stubbls field
Once waved the golden grain
What alls thee, old brown grasshopper?
His voice was low and faint
As in the language of his race
He made his direful complaint:
“Oh In the long bright summer time
I treasured up no store,
Now the last full sheaf is garnered
And the harvest days are o’er”
What didet thou, brown old grasshopper
When the summer days were long?
“I danced on the fragrant clover tops
With many a merry song;
Oh, we were a blithesome company
And a joyous life we led,
But with the flowers and summer hours
My gay companions fled
Old age and poverty are come,
The autumn wind is ch!!!,
It whistles through my tattered coat,
And my voice is cracked and shrill
In a damp and gloomy cavern
Beneath this cold, gray stone,
I must lay me down and perish- I must perish all alone
Alas! that in life’s golden time
I treasured up no store;
For now the sheaves are gathered in
And the harvest days are o’er”
He ceased his melancholy wall,
And a tear was in his eye,
As he slowly slid from the cold gray stone
And lald him down to die
And then I thought, ’twere well if all
In pisasure’s Idle throng,
Had seen the brown old grasshopper
And heard his dying song:
For life’s bright glowing suinmer
Is hasting to its close And winter’s night is coming- The night of long repose:
Oh, garner, then, in springtime,
A rich unfailing store,
Ere the summe hours are past and gone,
And the harvest days are o’er
And a tear was in his eye,
As he slowly wild from the cold gray stone
And lald him down to die
And then I thought, ’twere well if all
He ceased his melancholy wall,
In pisasure’s Idle throng
Had seen the brown old grasshopper
And heard his dying song:
For bright glowing suinmer
Is hasting to its close
And winter’s night is coming-
The night of long repose:
Oh, garner, then, in springtime
A rich unfailing store,
Ere the And summe hours are past and gone,
And the harves days o’er