Of reckless indulgence and what must succeed,
That all his gymnastics can't shelter or feed,
Or quicken his pulse into play!
"I must prepare for a winter to come,
I shall be glad of a home and a crumb,
When my frail form out of doors would be numb,
And I in the snow-storm should die.
Summer is lovely, but soon will be past.
Summer has plenty not always to last.
Summer's the time for the ant to make fast