The insect world amid the suns and dew
Awake and hum their tiny songs anew,
And climb the totter grass and blossoms stem
As huge in size as mighty oaks to them;
And rushy burnets on the pasture rise
As tall as castles to their little eyes.

Each leaf’s a town and smooth meadow grass
A mighty world whose bounds they never pass;
E’en spots no bigger than the husbandman’s
Or shepherd’s noontide dwarf shrunk shadow spans
Or e’en the milkmaid tripping thro’ the dew,
Each space she covers with her slender shoe
Seem to their view high woods in which they roam
As lorn, lost wand’rers many miles from home
Creeping up bents and down whole weary hours
And resting oft on the breasts of flowers
Till age, in minutes long as years, creeps on,
Or waning summer warns them to be gone.