The Life of the Grasshopper 



song is monotonous and artless, but so well- 

 suited, in its very crudity, to the rustic glad- 

 ness of renascent life ! It is the hosanna of 

 the awakening, the sacred alleluia under- 

 stood by swelling seed and sprouting blade. 

 Who deserves the palm in this duet? I 

 should award it to the Cricket. He sur- 

 passes them all, thanks to his numbers and 

 his unceasing note. Were the Lark to fall 

 silent, the fields blue-grey with lavender, 

 swinging its fragrant censers before the sun, 

 would still receive from this humble chorister 

 a solemn celebration. 



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