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Poem by John Keats

On the Grasshopper and 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 Grasshoppers; 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 Crickets song, in warmth increasing ever,	
  And seems to one in drowsiness half lost	
  The Grasshoppers among some grassy hills.

30 December 1816

John Keats

John Keats's other poems:
  1. On Receiving a Laurel Crown from Leigh Hunt
  2. Bards of Passion and of Mirth
  3. On Fame
  4. This Living Hand
  5. To Fanny

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