On the Grasshopper and Cricket The poetry of earth is never dead: When all the birds are faint with the hot sun, And hiding in the shady leaves, I wish To hear what grasshoppers sing their fun.

To me it is a sweet, and mellow tune, That chirrups softly, whispering the night, As always, they are life’s injunctions too, And tell of love that scents the air so right.

• John Keats