April 17, 2009
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Grasshopper
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.
A field...
Some ladybugs...
And a big fat grasshopper jumping at you!
Comments (2)
Nice photographs...did you shoot them all yourself?
@a_drunken_cellist - Yup...all the photos were taken by me in my wonderfully large backyard. =)
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