In myriad swarms, each summer sun An insect nation shows; Whose being, since he rose, begun; And e’er he sets will close.Brief is their date, confin’… - Samuel Bishop

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In myriad swarms, each summer sun An insect nation shows;
Whose being, since he rose, begun; And e’er he sets will close.Brief is their date, confin’d their pow’rs, The fluttering of a day;—
Yet life’s worth living, ev’n for hours, When all those hours—are play.