A SILLY young cricket, accustomed to sing Through the warm, sunny months of gay summer and spring, Began to complain, when he found that at home His cupboard was empty and winter was come. Not a crumb to be found On the snow-covered ground; Not a flower could he see, Not a leaf on a tree: "Oh, what will become," says the cricket, "of me?" At last by starvation and famine made bold, All dripping with wet and all trembling with cold, Away he set off to a miserly ant, To see if, to keep him alive, he would grant Him shelter from rain; A mouthful of grain He wished only to borrow, He'd repay it to-morrow; If not, he must die of starvation and sorrow. Says the ant to the cricket: "I'm your servant and friend, But we ants never borrow, we ants never lend; But tell me, dear sir, did you lay nothing by When the weather was warm?" Said the cricket, "Not I. My heart was so light That I sang day and night, For all nature looked gay." "You @3sang@1, sir, you say? Go then," said the ant, "and @3dance@1 winter away." Thus ending, he hastily lifted the wicket, And out of the door turned the poor little cricket. Though this is a fable, the moral is good: If you live without work, you must live without food. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ABANDONED RANCH, BIG BEND by HAYDEN CARRUTH A TIME TO DANCE by CECIL DAY LEWIS SONNET TO THOSE WHO SEE BUT DARKLY by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON WAITING IN THE CHILDREN'S HOSPITAL by CLARENCE MAJOR PEOPLE'S SURROUNDINGS by MARIANNE MOORE VIGNETTES OVERSEAS: 6. RUINS OF PAESTUM by SARA TEASDALE BALLAD OF THE LORDS OF OLD TIME by FRANCOIS VILLON THE BALLAD OF WILLIAM SYCAMORE (1790-1880) by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET |