Happy insect, happy thou,
Dost neither age nor winter know.
But when thou'st drunk, and danc'd, and sung
Thy fill, the flowery leaves among
(Voluptuous and wise withal, Epicurean animal!)
Sated with thy summer feast
Thou retir'st to endless rest."
or the following lines
"Their raptures now that wildly flow,
No yesterday nor morrow know;