The cicada (cricket) having sung
All summer long,
Found herself most destitute
When the north wind blew :
Not even one little morsel
Of fly or worm.
She went to plea her famish
To her neighbor the ant,
Begging her to lend her
A little grain so she’d survive
Until the new season.
“I shall pay you, she told her,
Before the harvest*, animal’s oath,
Interest and principal.”
The ant is not a lender :
This is the least of her faults.
“What were you doing during the warm season ?
She asked this borrower.
— Night and day, to anyone
I sang, please you if it may.
— You sang ? I’m delighted :
Well, dance now.”
