Insect World
by Edgar A. Guest
We know so little. That whene’er I pass
I think I hear faint whisperings in the grass
From tiny creatures I can scarcely see
Out of their wisdom making fun of me.
Theirs is a world in which I cannot go,
A knowledge never given me to know.
Theirs is a purpose, baffling unto man,
And yet the ants appear to have a plan.
Earth is their home and I am sure they find
Charms and delights to which man’s eyes are blind.
Ants no doubt wonder why men never stay
To gaze on tiny splendors, just as they.
Nor do I think they envy us at all,
But count it God’s best blessing to be small,
For they possess within a patch of grass
A world of beauty mortals blindly pass.