 | Poems of home and travel |  |
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CRICKET SONG.
Welcome with thy clicking, cricket!
Clicking songs of sober mirth;
Autumn, stripping field and thicket,
Brings thee to my hearth,
Where thy clicking shrills and quickens,
While the mist of twilight thickens.
Clicking songs of sober mirth;
Autumn, stripping field and thicket,
Brings thee to my hearth,
Where thy clicking shrills and quickens,
While the mist of twilight thickens.
Lately, by the garden wicket,
Where the thick grass grew unclipt,
And the rill beside thee, cricket,
Silver-trickling slipt,
Thou, in midday's silent glitter,
Mocked the flickering linnet's twitter.
Where the thick grass grew unclipt,
And the rill beside thee, cricket,
Silver-trickling slipt,
Thou, in midday's silent glitter,
Mocked the flickering linnet's twitter.
Now thou art, my cheerful cricket,
Nimble quickener of my song;
Not a thought but thou shalt nick it
In thy lowly tongue,
And my clock, the moments ticking,
Is thy constant clicking, clicking.
Nimble quickener of my song;
Not a thought but thou shalt nick it
In thy lowly tongue,
128
Is thy constant clicking, clicking.
No annoy, good-humored cricket,
With thy trills is ever blent;
Spleen of mine, how dost thou trick it
To a calm content!
So, by thicket, hearth, or wicket,
Click thy little lifetime, cricket!
With thy trills is ever blent;
Spleen of mine, how dost thou trick it
To a calm content!
So, by thicket, hearth, or wicket,
Click thy little lifetime, cricket!
| Poems of home and travel | |