The same revolving day that saw
Their scene of life begun,
Beheld them sink to dust again,
With the declining sun.
V.
And one of these, at noon-tide hour,
(The hardiest of his race)
Urg’d to the Field-flow’r bright and gay
His quick and eager pace.
VI.
But when no fragrant scent he found
In that same flow’r so bright;
He to the sweeter Rosemary
Immediate urg’d his flight.
VII.
The lasting aromatic plant,
His speed with wonder view’d;
Advis’d him other flow’rs to seek,
Nor on her spot intrude.
VIII.
“And how can I for thee (she said)
“My happier pow’rs display,
“Or with my lasting flow’r support
“The insect of a day?
IX.
“Sure Nature form’d thy race in sport,
“Continual to destroy;
“Nor ever meant thy race to taste
“One pure, substantial joy.”
X.
“Not so,” the wiser Insect cry’d,
“My high descent I claim
“From PHŒBUS’ self—you cannot more,
“Nor wish a higher name.
XI.
“What if to me a shorter date
“By Nature’s law is giv’n;
“Each moment that I live, t’ enjoy,
“Is all I ask of Heav’n.
XII.
“Beneath the Mushroom’s spacious shade,
“Or in the mossy bow’r,
“Or still at noon as now reclin’d,
“Beneath some fragrant flow’r.
XIII.
“Know, that as much of life I trace
“In one revolving sun;
“As yonder herds, whose destin’d course
“Full many an age has run.
XIV.
“For equal are great Nature’s gifts,
“And but an idle dream;
“The boast of time, which glides away
“Swift as the passing stream.
XV.
“Well to employ the present hour,
“Sweet plant, be ever thine;
“LIFE’S little day, when once elaps’d,
“Shall seem as short as MINE.”