On The Grasshopper And Cricket

John Keats

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.

Next 10 Poems

• John Keats : On The Sea
• John Keats : Robin Hood
• John Keats : Song Of The Indian Maid, From 'endymion'
• John Keats : Sonnet: On The Sonnet
• John Keats : Stanzas
• John Keats : The Day Is Gone, And All Its Sweets Are Gone
• John Keats : The Dove
• John Keats : The Eve Of St. Agnes
• John Keats : The Human Seasons
• John Keats : Think Not Of It, Sweet One

Previous 10 Poems

• John Keats : On Sitting Down To Read King Lear Once Again
• John Keats : On Seeing The Elgin Marbles For The First Time
• John Keats : On Leaving Some Friends At An Early Hour
• John Keats : On First Looking Into Chapman's Homer
• John Keats : On Fame
• John Keats : Ode To Psyche
• John Keats : Ode To Fanny
• John Keats : Ode To Autumn
• John Keats : Ode To A Nightingale
• John Keats : Ode On Melancholy