UNDER this loop of honeysuckle, A creeping, coloured caterpillar, I gnaw the fresh green hawthorn spray, I nibble it leaf by leaf away. Down beneath grow dandelions, Daisies, old-man's-looking-glasses; Rooks flap croaking across the lane. I eat and swallow and eat again. Here come raindrops helter-skelter; I munch and nibble unregarding: Hawthorn leaves are juicy and firm. I'll mind my business: I'm a good worm. When I'm old, tired, melancholy, I'll build a leaf-green mausoleum Close by, here on this lovely spray, And die and dream the ages away. Some say worms win resurrection, With white wings beating flitter-flutter, But wings or a sound sleep, why should I care? Either way I'll miss my share. Under this loop of honeysuckle, A hungry, hairy caterpillar, I crawl on my high and swinging seat, And eat, eat, eat -- as one ought to eat. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LIKE A BULRUSH by MARIANNE MOORE ON THE DEATH OF SWINBURNE by SARA TEASDALE DEPARTURE IN THE DARK by CECIL DAY LEWIS VIRGINIA - THE WEST by WALT WHITMAN INDIGNATION; AN ODE by LASCELLES ABERCROMBIE RELEASE by GLADYS NAOMI ARNOLD THE TREE OF LIFE by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES |