"I don't play; It doubles my toil, your importunate lay, I've earned a sweet pillow, lo! Hesper is nigh; I clasp a good wisp and in fragrance I lie; But thou art unwearied, and empty, and dry." How very human this little thing is--how actually it brings before us the figure of the girl, who must have become dust some time between two and three thousand years ago! She is working hard in the field, and the constant singing of the insect prompts her to make a comical protest.

"Oh, Tithonus, what are you making that creaking noise for?
You old dry thing, I have no time to play with you, or to idle in any way, but you do nothing but complain.

Why don't you work, as I do?
Soon I shall have leave to sleep, because I have worked well.

There is the evening star, and I shall have a good bed of hay, sweet-smelling fresh hay, to lie upon.

How well I shall sleep.