The Grasshopper, poem by Conrad Aiken

THE GRASSHOPPER
by Conrad Aiken

Grasshopper
grasshopper 

all day long 

we hear your scraping 

summer song 

like
rusty 

fiddles 

in 

the 

grass 

as through
the meadow 

path 

we pass 

such funny legs 

such funny feet 

and how we wonder 

what you eat 

maybe a single blink of dew 

sipped from a clover leaf would do
then high in air 

once more you spring
to fall in grass again
and sing. 

PAINTING: “Grasshopper on Flowering Plant” by Tsuji Kako (1870-1931)

On the Grasshopper and the Cricket, poem by John Keats

ON THE GRASSHOPPER AND THE CRICKET
By John Keats (1795-1821)

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.

Illustration: “Grasshopper” (mixed media) by ShulmanArts, available at etsy.com.