Insects In Summer

J James Thomson James Thomson
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Waked by his warmer ray, the reptile young Came wing'd abroad; by the light air upborne Lighter, and full of soul. From every chink And secret corner, where they slept away The wintry storms; or rising from their tombs To higher life; by myriads, forth at once, Swarming they pour; of all the varied hues Their beauty-beaming parent can disclose. Ten thousand forms! ten thousand different tribes! People the blaze. To sunny waters some By fatal instinct fly; where on the pool They sportive wheel, or sailing down the stream, Are snatch'd immediate, by the quick-eyed trout, Or darting salmon. Through the greenwood glade Some love to stray; there lodged, amused, and fed, In the fresh leaf. Luxurious, others make The meads their choice, and visit every flower, And every latent herb; and where to wrap, In what soft beds, their young yet undisclosed, Employs their tender care. Some to the house, The fold, the dairy, hungry, bend their flight; Sip round the pail, or taste the curdling cheese; Oft, inadvertent, from the milky stream, They meet their fate; or, weltering in the bowl, With powerless wings around them wrapt, expire.

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