w a prego-dieu.

"Beautiful insect," said I, "I have heard that, as a reward for thy
ceaseless praying, God hath given thee the gift of divination.

"Tell me now, good friend, if she I love hath slept well; tell what she
is thinking at this hour, and what she is doing; tell me if she is
laughing or weeping."

The insect, that was kneeling, stirred upon the tube of the tiny,
leaning ear, and unfolded and waved his little wings.

And his speech, softer than the softest breath of a zephyr wafted in a
wood, sweet and mysterious, reached my ear.

"I see a maiden," said he, "in the cool shade beneath a cherry tree; the
waving branches touch her; the boughs hang thick with cherries.

"The cherries are fully ripe, fragrant, solid, red, and, amid the smooth
leaves, make one hungry, and, hanging, tempt one.

"But the cherry tree offers in vain the sweetness and the pleasing color
of its bright, firm fruit, red as coral.

"She sighs, trying to see if she can jump high enough to pluck them.
Would that my lover might come! He would climb up, and throw them down
into my apron."

So I say to the reapers: "Reapers, leave behind you a little corner
uncut, where, during the summer, the prego-dieu may have shelter."

II

This autumn, going down a sunken road, I wandered off across the fields,
lost in earthly thoughts.

And, once more, amid the stubble, I saw, clinging to a tiny ear of
grain, folded up in his double wing, the prego-dieu.

"Beautiful insect," said I then, "I have heard that, as a reward for thy
ceaseless praying, God hath given thee the gift of divination.

"And that if some child, lost amid the harvest fields, asks of thee his
way, thou, little creature, showest him the way through the wheat.

"In the pleasures and pains of this world, I see that I, poor child, am
astray; for, as he grows, man feels his wickedness.

"In the grain and in the chaff, in fear and in pride, in budding hope,
alas for me, I see my ruin.

"I love space, and I am in chains; among thorns I walk barefoot; Love is
God, and Love sins; every enthusiasm after action is disappointed.

"What we accomplished is wiped out; brute instinct is satisfied, and the
ideal is not reached; we must be born amid tears, and be stung among the
flowers.

"Evil is hideous, and it smiles upon me; the flesh is fair, and it rots;
the water is bitter, and I would drink; I am languishing, I want to die
and yet to live.

"I am falling faint and weary;