Turning the Book Wheel

From Anecdotes of remarkable insects: selected from natural history, and interspersed with poetry by Joseph Taylor (1817)

To the Grasshopper. 

Happy Insect ! blithe and gay 
Seated on the sunny spray, 
And drunk with dew, the leaves among,
Singing sweet thy chirping song. 

All the various season's treasures, 
All the products of the plains, 
Thus lie open to thy pleasures, 
Fav'rite of the rural swains. 

On thee, the Muses fix their choice, 
And Phoebus adds his own. 
Who first inspir'd thy lively voice. 
And tun'd the pleasing tone. 

Thy cheerful note in wood and vale 
Fills every heart with glee ; 
And summer smiles in double charms 
While thus proclaim'd by thee. 

Like Gods canst thou the Nectar sip, 
A lively chirping elf; 
From labour free, and free from care, 
A little God thyself! 

From Flora and Thalia; or, Gems of flowers and poetry: being an alphabetical arrangement of flowers, with appropriate poetical illustrations, embellished with coloured plates (1836) title scanned by our friends at the New York Botanical Garden for inclusion in the Biodiversity Heritage Library.

The Close of Spring

The garlands fade that Spring so lately wove,
Each simple flower which she has nursed in dew,—
Anemones, that spangled every grove ;
The Primrose wan, and Harebell mildly blue :
No more shall Violets linger in the dell,
Or purple Orchis variegate the plain :
Till Spring again shall call forth every -bell,
And dress with humid hands her wreaths again.
Oh poor humanity ! so frail, so fair,
Are the fond visions of thy early day ;
Till tyrant passion, and corrosive care,
Bid all thy fairy colours fade away ;
Another May new buds and flowers shall bring :
Ah ! why has happiness no second Spring ?

—Charles Smith

From Rhymes for Young Folks (1887)

THE BUBBLE.

See, the pretty Planet !
Floating sphere !
Faintest breeze will fan it
Far or near ;
World as light as feather ;
Moonshine rays,
Rainbow tints, together,
As it plays ;
Drooping, sinking, failing,
Nigh to earth,
Mounting, whirling, sailing,
Full of mirth ;
Life there, welling, flowing.
Waving round ;
Pictures coming, going.
Without sound.
Quick now ! be this airy
Globe repell’d !
Never can the fairy
Star be held.
Touch’d — it in a twinkle
Disappears !
Leaving but a sprinkle,
As of tears.