Chapter 131 of 134
III. THE CRICKET
The Works of William Cowper: His life, letters, and poems, now first completed by the introduction of Cowper's private correspondence · William Cowper
III. THE CRICKET
Little inmate, full of mirth, Chirping on my kitchen hearth, Wheresoe'er be thine abode, Always harbinger of good, Pay me for thy warm retreat With a song more soft and sweet; In return thou shalt receive Such a strain as I can give.
Thus thy praise shall be express'd, Inoffensive, welcome guest! While the rat is on the scout, And the mouse with curious snout, With what vermin else infest Every dish, and spoil the best; Frisking thus before the fire, Thou hast all thine heart's desire.
Though in voice and shape they be Form'd as if akin to thee, Thou surpassest, happier far, Happiest grasshoppers that are; Theirs is but a summer's song, Thine endures the winter long, Unimpair'd, and shrill, and clear, Melody throughout the year.
Neither night nor dawn of day Puts a period to thy play: Sing, then--and extend thy span Far beyond the date of man. Wretched man, whose years are spent In repining discontent, Lives not, aged though he be, Half a span, compared with thee.
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[Illustration:
_J. Gilbert fecit._
_W. Greatbach sculp._
THE PARROT.
"IN PAINTED PLUMES SUPERBLY DRESS'D, A NATIVE OF THE GORGEOUS EAST"]