Classic Poem

Forgive me, my brothers and sisters,
Little people who live in the grass,
So heedless was I of your presence,
But now I am crying “Alas!”
Lamenting my deafness and blindness,
And wishing I better had known
My neighbors, the peaceable creatures
Whose homes were so near to my own.

I wish I had lingered in passing,
And lifted the leaves of the field,
And watched you run hither and thither
In paths which the grasses concealed.
I wish that my fingers had touched you
And made you look up at a friend,
Though you were so tiny and transient,
And I—of the world without end!

I wish you had told me your story,
And I could have told you my own;
How sweet would have been our communion
In hours that were weary and lone.
I shall go, I shall flee like a shadow,
I shall answer the voices that call,
And you with your homes in the grasses,
Will never have loved me at all.

Forgive me, my brothers and sisters,
Little people who live in the grass,
So heedless was I of your presence,
But now I am crying “Alas!”
Lamenting my deafness and blindness,
And wishing I better had known
My neighbors, the peaceable creatures
Whose homes were so near to my own.

I wish I had lingered in passing,
And lifted the leaves of the field,
And watched you run hither and thither
In paths which the grasses concealed.
I wish that my fingers had touched you
And made you look up at a friend,
Though you were so tiny and transient,
And I—of the world without end!

I wish you had told me your story,
And I could have told you my own;
How sweet would have been our communion
In hours that were weary and lone.
I shall go, I shall flee like a shadow,
I shall answer the voices that call,
And you with your homes in the grasses,
Will never have loved me at all.