The Ant by Richard Flecknoe

Little thinks thou poor Ant who there
With so great pains, in so long time
A grain or two to th’ Cell dost bear,
Ther’s greater work ith’ world then thine.

Ith’ small Republick too at home,
Where thou’st perhaps some Magistrate,
Little thinks thou when thou dost come,
Ther’s greater in the world then that.

Nor is’t such wonder now in thee
No more ith’ world, nor things dost know,
That all thy thoughts oth’ ground should be,
And mind on things so poor, and low.

But that man so base mind should bear
To fix it on a clot of ground,
As if no greater world there were;
Nor greater business to be found.

He so much of the man does want
As metamorphosd quite agen,
While thou’rt but man turn’d grouling Ant,
Such groulers seem but Ants turn’d men.

From: Flecknoe, Richard, A farrago of several pieces being a supplement to his poems, characters, heroick pourtraits, letters, and other discourses formerly published by him / newly written by Richard Flecknoe, 2004, Text Creation Partnership: Ann Arbor, Michigan and Oxford, p. 23.
(http://name.umdl.umich.edu/A39714.0001.001)

Date: 1666

By: Richard Flecknoe (c1600-1678)

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