O THOU that swing'st upon the waving hair <br /> Of some well-filled oaten beard, <br />Drunk every night with a delicious tear <br /> Dropt thee from heaven, where thou wert rear'd! <br /> <br />The joys of earth and air are thine entire, <br /> That with thy feet and wings dost hop and fly; <br />And when thy poppy works, thou dost retire <br /> To thy carved acorn-bed to lie. <br /> <br />Up with the day, the Sun thou welcom'st then, <br /> Sport'st in the gilt plaits of his beams, <br />And all these merry days mak'st merry men, <br /> Thyself, and melancholy streams.<br /><br />Richard Lovelace<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-grasshopper/
