To a Grasshopper

O creature of the meadow green,
A voyager of hidden threads,
With pale wings gold and round about,
Thy merry song doth nothing dread!

From morn swift calling, sunlit lanes,
The leaves rejoicing round thy flights;
To nature’s pulse, soft singing strains,
Bidding thee peace— like summer nights!

Attend to me, and linger near;
Thy music shall mark all the hours;
Enthral me in this woodland sphere,
Where joy doth ever shower!

Though rains decay, nor come that day,
When dusk may dim those faintest dreams,
Yet still I’ll hear your melody,
Rest in your notes, as daylight gleams!

• William Hazlitt