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Saturday, March 19, 2016


The Grasshopper, so blithe and gay, 
   Sang the summer time away.  
  Pinched and poor the spendthrift grew, 
   When the sour north-easter blew.   
 In her larder not a scrap,  
 Bread to taste, nor drink to lap. 
   To the Ant, her neighbour, she  
 Went to moan her penury,
Praying for a loan of wheat, 
  Just to make a loaf to eat,  
  Till the sunshine came again.  
  "All I say is fair and plain,  
   I will pay you every grain,   
  Principal and interest too, 
    Before harvest, I tell you,  
  On my honour—every pound,   
  Ere a single sheaf is bound.  
   "The Ant's a very prudent friend, 
    Never much disposed to lend; 
  Virtues great and failings small,   
   This her failing least of all.   
  Quoth she, "How spent you the summer?"   
 "Night and day, to each new comer  
    I sang gaily, by your leave; 
    Singing, singing, morn and eve."   
   "You sang? I see it at a glance.   
   Well, then, now's the time to dance."

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