Who so fiercely came out
Of his hole, that no doubt
He expected that I was secure:
But he found 'twould not do,
For I forced my way through,
Overjoyed on escaping, you're sure.
VI.
But I'll now take my leave,
For the clouds I perceive
Are darkening over the sky;
The sun has gone in,
And I really begin
To feel it grow colder.—Good bye!
I'm, as ever, yours,
LETTER XI.
FROM THE GLOW-WORM TO THE HUMBLE-BEE.
(Charles Bloomfield.)