THE ENTOMOLOGIST’S WEEKLY INTELLIGENCE!?. 
55 
scription explain themselves, if any one 
will take the trouble to hold some well- 
known species ( Tortrix viridana, for in- 
stance) in his hands, and then read over 
the description slowly till he works out, 
to his own satisfaction, the meaning in- 
tended by the author in each separate 
word used. 
Many persons labour under the delu- 
sion that everything should be so plainly 
written that its meaning should be ap- 
parent, without the slightest study, and 
cavil with an author because, though 
supplying a certain amount of informa- 
tion, he has not likewise given his 
readers a capability of duly benefiting 
by it. Nine times in ten, if an author is 
not understood, the fault lies with the 
reader. 
(To be continued.) 
THE SONG OF GELECHIA 
TEEEEL1A. 
Coming over wood and meadow, 
Gardens fertile, commons bare, 
Joyously the voice of Evening 
Rises through translucent air. 
Comes, too, Evening’s handmaid, Twi- 
light- 
Aspect neither dark nor fair — 
Feet gloom-hidden, but a glory 
Plays around her golden hair; 
Face upturned and looking always 
Skyward for the evening star, 
Garments scented with the odours 
Gathered by her near and far, 
As they — offerings of the flowers — 
In her pathway crowded round, 
And some, in her progress scattered, 
Kiss her footprints on the ground. 
Underneath the Sun’s gaze fainting, 
Hoping he would quickly pass, 
All day long for her I waited 
Torpid, lifeless, in the grass. 
Now to dance and play before her 
Gladly I prepare to rise, 
For ’lis pleasant to find favour 
In the love-light of her eyes. 
Short my flight, yet how delightful 
Is this hour I call my own, 
Ere the darkness comes to tell me 
That the time for flight has flown. 
While I live I will be happy 
With companions of my race; 
Though, they say, that all enjoyment 
Makes life run with double pace. 
While I was a larva eating, — 
Always eating, — there did seem 
In me indistinct conceptions 
Shadowed forth as in a dream — 
Feelings that for something better 
Than to eat, and grow, and die, 
I was made; when turned to pupa 
’Twas revealed I soon should fly ; 
When, at length, in perfect stature 
I my flight came to essay, 
Ecstacy beyond expression 
Filled me— fills me to this day. 
Siuce my race was first created 
Legions into life have sprung, 
And each year their quiet beauty 
O’er these slopes a grace has flung ; 
Yet has man uot learned our secret, 
Still he wanders from the truth, 
And I trust long will be hidden 
All the mysteries of our youth. 
But I must not longer tarry, 
She I love expects to see 
All my tribe rise up together — 
Come, my friends, and fly with me. 
