The cricket sings.

nature, poetry, , ,

ON THE GRASSHOPPER AND THE CRICKET

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.

-John Keats

Yorkshire 2015 – Pippin photo

10 thoughts on “The cricket sings.”

    1. Because the poet makes reference to the cricket in winter as well as summer, I think I may have shared it once in that frosty season as well – or meant to.

      I haven’t had a cricket in the house for many years, which I find a little sad.

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  5. I like the picture with the sheep in the shade. Like the birds I am faint with the hot sun.

    This little poem reads easily. It seems familiar to me.

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  6. Gretchen, what do you mean by putting up a cricket poem today, when, all of a sudden there is a very loud chirping in the cellar? We have never had a cricket inside the house before. How did the fellow get in?
    They always sing in the library, but not till late summer or fall – I never think of them in July! I blame you for this. 😀

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