What wonder strikes the curious, while he views The black ant's city, by a rotten tree, Or woodland bank! In ignorance we muse: Pausing, annoyed,--we know not what we see, Such government and thought there seem to be; Some looking on, and urging some to toil, Dragging their loads of bent-stalks slavishly: And what's more wonderful, when big loads foil One ant or two to carry, quickly then A swarm flock round to help their fellow-men. Surely they speak a language whisperingly, Too fine for us to hear; and sure their ways Prove they have kings and laws, and that they be Deformed remnants of the Fairy-days. _To Anna Three Years Old_ My Anna, summer laughs in mirth, And we will of the party be, And leave the crickets in the hearth For green fields' merry minstrelsy. I see thee now with little hand Catch at each object passing bye, The happiest thing in all the land Except the bee and butterfly. * * * * * And limpid brook that leaps along, Gilt with the summer's burnished gleam, Will stop thy little tale or song To gaze upon its crimping stream. Thou'lt leave my hand with eager speed The new discovered things to see-- The old pond with its water weed And danger-daring willow tree, Who leans an ancient invalid Oer spots where deepest waters be. In sudden shout and wild surprise I hear thy simple wonderment, As new things meet thy childish eyes And wake some innocent intent; As bird or bee or butterfly Bounds through the crowd of merry leaves And starts the rapture of thine eye To run for what it neer achieves. But thou art on the bed of pain, So tells each poor forsaken toy. Ah, could I see that happy hour When these shall be thy heart's employ, And see thee toddle oer the plain, And stoop for flowers, and shout for joy. _From "The Parish: A Satire"_ I In politics and politicians' lies The modern farmer waxes wondrous wise; Opinionates with wisdom all compact, And een could tell a nation how to act; Throws light on darkness with excessive skill, Knows who acts well and whose designs are ill, Proves half the members nought but bribery's tools, And calls the past a dull dark age of fools. As wise as Solomon they read the news, Not with their blind forefathers' simple views, Who read of wars, and wished that wars would cease, And blessed the King, and wished his country peace; Who marked the weight of each fat sheep and ox, The price of grain and rise and fall of stocks; Who thought it learning how to buy and sell, And him a wise man who could manage well. No, not with such old-fashioned, idle views Do these newsmongers traffic with the news. They read of politics and not of grain, And speechify and comment and explain, And know so much of Parliament and state You'd think they're members when you heard them prate; And know so little of their farms the while They can but urge a wiser man to smile. II