From a wise emmet, well sustain'd
On what her industry had gain'd,
A grasshopper some aid desir'd.
"What was his trade?" the ant inquir'd.
"I've none," the grasshopper replied;
"I range the country far and wide,
Singing all day from door to door,
And have no time to form a store."
Shutting her granaries, says the ant,
"No wonder, friend, you are in want;
He who all summer sings, may chance
In winter to be forc'd to dance."
To spend his time in idle song,
The thoughtless grasshopper was wrong;
And not to give a small supply,
The emmet mean and niggardly.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]