 | Ionica |  |
200
Age and Girlhood.
A dry cicale chirps to a lass making hay,“Why creak'st thou, Tithonas?” quoth she. “I don't play;
It doubles my toil, your importunate lay,
I've earned a sweet pillow, lo! Hesper is nigh;
I clasp a good wisp, and in fragrance I lie;
But thou art unwearied, and empty, and dry.”
| Ionica | |