Grasshopper Poem

On the Grasshopper and the Cricket

Poet: 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.

The Ants and the Grasshopper

Poet: Anna M. Wiebalk

A grasshopper sang merrily all summer.
When winter came on, it almost perished with hunger.

It went to some ants that lived near by and
Asked them for some food they had put by.
It promised to pay them back within a year.
"What did you do all summer?" asked the ants.
"I sang all the day and all the night," replied the grasshopper.
"Now you can dance," said the ants.
And they would not give the idle grasshopper any food.

Oh Grasshopper

Poet: Mary Mapes Dodge

Oh, I'd search the world over
For one four-leaved clover!
Bend low, pretty grass, bend low!
Jump, little crickets ! and tumble, you bees!
Green little grasshoppers, limber your knees;
There's one hidden somewhere, I know.

The Grasshopper in Summer

Poet: Leigh Hunt

Green little vaulter, in the sunny grass,
Catching your heart up at the feel of June,
Sole noise that's heard amidst the lazy noon,
When ev'n the bees lag at the summoning brass.

Grasshoppers in the Meadow

Poet: Jean Ingelow

Crowds of bees are giddy with clover
Crowds of grasshoppers skip at our feet,
Crowds of larks at their matins hang over,
Thanking the Lord for a life so sweet.

The Music of Nature

Poet: John Muir

The water in music the oar forsakes.
The air in music the wing forsakes.
All things in move in music and write it.
The mouse, lizard, and grasshopper sing
together on the Turlock sands,
Sing with the morning stars.

The Tender Grasshopper

Poet: Francis James Child

The tender grasshopper, his chosen crest,
That all the summer, with a tuneful wing.
Makes merry chirpings in its grassy nest,
Inspirited with dew to leap and sing.