Staining her broken velvet form
And covering her wings with mud.
The Cricket, sheltered from the rain,
Chirped and looked on with tranquil eye;
For him the thunder pealed in vain,
The gale and torrent passed him by.
Then shun the world, nor take your fill
Of any of its joys or flowers;
A lowly fire-side, calm and still,
At least will grant you tearless hours![5]