On the Grasshopper and Cricket is a poem of WB Yeats.
Answers
Answer:
ɢʀᴀᴠɪᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ɪs ᴛʜᴇ ғᴏʀᴄᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴘᴜʟʟs ᴛᴡᴏ ᴍᴀssᴇs ᴛᴏᴡᴀʀᴅ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ. Bᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇ ɪᴛ ᴏʀ ɴᴏᴛ, ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ sɪɴɢʟᴇ ᴘᴀʀᴛɪᴄʟᴇ ᴏғ ᴍᴀᴛᴛᴇʀ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀsᴇ ᴇxᴇʀᴛs ɢʀᴀᴠɪᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏɴ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴘᴀʀᴛɪᴄʟᴇ. Tʜᴇ ᴛᴇʀᴍs ɢʀᴀᴠɪᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ɢʀᴀᴠɪᴛʏ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏғᴛᴇɴ ᴜsᴇᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇᴀʙʟʏ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀᴛᴛʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴇɴᴇʀɢʏ ᴏʀ ᴍᴀss.
Answer:
On The Grasshopper and Cricket
by John Keats
The poetry of earth is never dead:
When all the birds are faint with the hot sun,
And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run
From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead;
That is the Grasshopper’s–he takes the lead
In summer luxury,–he has never done
With his delights; for when tired out with fun
He rests at ease beneath some pleasant weed.
The poetry of earth is ceasing never:
On a lone winter evening, when the frost
Has wrought a silence, from the stove there shrills
The Cricket’s song, in warmth increasing ever,
And seems to one in drowsiness half lost,
The Grasshopper’s among some grassy hills.