I lie upon my stomach in the grass,
My curious nose two inches from the blades,
And watch the melancholy beetles pass
In the pursuance of their various trades.
Some of them might be monumental masons,
And others warriors equipped for war;
Some might be barbers searching for their basins,
Or longshorebeetles longing for a shore.
I think this beetle either writes or teaches;
His look is anxious and his brow is lined.
And here, behold ! a clergybeetle preaches
Damnation to all sinful beetlekind.
Whether I guess correctly there’s no knowing;
The ways of beetles are beyond my ken,
But none of them seems certain where he’s going -
In this, at least, they’re similar to men.