IN myriad swarms, each summer sun An insect nation shows; Whose being, since he rose begun, And e'er he sets will close. Brief is their date, confin'd their powers, The fluttering of a day; -- Yet life's worth living, e'en for hours, When all those hours -- are play. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LITTLE FIRE IN THE WOODS by HAYDEN CARRUTH MY DEATH AS A GIRL I KNEW by JAMES GALVIN THE AWAKENING by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON ITALIAN PICTURES: THE COSTA SAN GIORGIO by MINA LOY THE AWAKENING RIVER by KATHERINE MANSFIELD HOW THE GREAT GUEST CAME by EDWIN MARKHAM |