August. 69 
And the farmer cried, glancing across the grain, 
“ How these rascally weeds have come up again ! ” 
“Ha, ha !” laughed the Red-caps, “ Ha, ha ! what a fuss 
Must the poor weeds be in ! how they're envying us ! ” 
But their mirth was cut short by the sturdy strokes 
They speedily met from the harvest folks. 
And when low on earth each stem was laid, 
And the round moon looked on the havoc made, 
A Blue-bottle propped herself half erect, 
And made a short speech—to this effect:— 
‘ ‘ My dying kins-flowers and fainting friends, 
The same dire fate alike attends 
Those who in scarlet or blue are dressed ; 
Then how silly the pride that so late possessed 
‘ ‘ Our friends, the Red-caps ! how low they lie 
Who were lately so pert, so vain, and high ! 
They sneered at us and our plain array : 
Are we now a whit more humble than they ? 
“ They scorned our neighbours ; the goodly Corn 
Was the butt of their merriment eve and morn ; 
They lived on its land, from its bounty fed, 
But a word of thanks they never have said. 
‘ ‘ And which is the worthiest now, I pray ? 
Have ye not learned enough to-day ? 
Is not the Corn sheafed up with care? 
And are not the Poppies left dying there ? 
