Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE FIREFLY by SARAH CHAUNCEY WOOLSEY

Poet Analysis

First Line: MID SUMMER GREEN IN TWILIGHT'S DAMP
Last Line: "AND TAME IT IF YOU CAN,—GOOD-BY!"
Subject(s): FIREFLIES; GLOWWORMS;
MID summer green in twilight's damp
While dim and pale a young moon shone,
A fire-fly lit her small bright lamp
And gaily sped for hours alone.

Over the beds where lilies grew
Across the dark copse and the sky,
Above the roses drenched with dew,
Flickered the lamp, now low, now high.

All creatures blessed the tiny lamp,—
The downy birdlings nested deep,
The whip-poor-will in hidden swamp,
The tree-toads chirring in their sleep.

But certain sober dowagers
Of cricket tribe and origin,
Brown-coated and advanced in years,
Opined such levity was sin.

And one and all, with many a groan,
Declared the fire-fly must submit,
Give up her pranks and stay at home,
And in their serious circle sit.

And as they bade her, down she sat,
And while the hours dragged slow and long,
She listened to the cricket's chat,
Half chirr and half a droning song.

Drowsily sat the poor fire-fly:—
Her fretful hostesses meantime
Looked on her with an evil eye
Because her lamp refused to shine.

"So disobliging," whispered they,
"A pert young thing, whose one idea
Is flitting, gadding life away;
No good will come to such, my dear."

Quite grieved, the pretty fire-fly tried
Her lamp to kindle and to trim:
Her utmost efforts it defied,
And shrank and paled and flickered dim.

And while the whisper louder grows,
And sourly glared the spinster eyes,
Sudden on airy wings she rose,
And left them to their gossipries.

Bright flashed her taper as she flew,
And from above, her small voice said:
"I've done my best to pleasure you,
But what can life do with the dead?

Born to sit still you crickets are;
But I was born to rise and fly;
Try your hand next on yonder star,
And tame @3it@1 if you can,—good-by!"



Home: PoetryExplorer.net