 | The Giant and the Star |  |
54
BEETLE AND MOTH
I
There's a bug at night that goes
Drowsily down the garden ways;
Lumberingly above the rose,
And above the jasmine sprays;
Bumping, bungling, buzzing by,
Falling finally, to crawl
Underneath the rose and lie
Near its fairest bud. That's all.
And I ask my father why
This old bug goes by that way:
This is what he has to say:—
Drowsily down the garden ways;
Lumberingly above the rose,
And above the jasmine sprays;
Bumping, bungling, buzzing by,
Falling finally, to crawl
Underneath the rose and lie
Near its fairest bud. That's all.
And I ask my father why
This old bug goes by that way:
This is what he has to say:—
“That's old Parson Beetle, sonny;
He's in love with some rich flower;
After her and all her honey—
And he'll have them in an hour.
He is awkward, but, I say,
With the flowers he has a way;
And, I tell you, he's a power;
Never fails to get his flower:
He's a great old Beetle, sonny.”
He's in love with some rich flower;
After her and all her honey—
And he'll have them in an hour.
He is awkward, but, I say,
With the flowers he has a way;
And, I tell you, he's a power;
Never fails to get his flower:
He's a great old Beetle, sonny.”
55
II
Then again, when it is wet,
And we sit around the lamp,
On the screen, near which it's set,
Comes a fluttering, dim and damp,
Of white, woolly wings; and I
Go to see what's there and find
Something like a butterfly,
Beating at the window-blind.
And I ask my father why
This strange creature does that way:
This is what he has to say:—
And we sit around the lamp,
On the screen, near which it's set,
Comes a fluttering, dim and damp,
Of white, woolly wings; and I
Go to see what's there and find
Something like a butterfly,
Beating at the window-blind.
And I ask my father why
This strange creature does that way:
This is what he has to say:—
“Lady Moth that; she's the fashion:
Falls in love with all bright things:
She has a consuming passion
For this light: will singe her wings.
Once it was a star, you know,—
That she loved.—I told you so!
Take her up. What lovely rings
On her scorched and dainty wings!—
It's a pity, but the fashion.”
Falls in love with all bright things:
She has a consuming passion
For this light: will singe her wings.
Once it was a star, you know,—
That she loved.—I told you so!
Take her up. What lovely rings
On her scorched and dainty wings!—
It's a pity, but the fashion.”
| The Giant and the Star | |