When all the birds are faint with the hot sun,
And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run
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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.

Green little vaulter, in the sunny grass,
Catching your heart up at the feel of June,
Sole read more

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.