Lydia Sigourney

“ Then, quick, with light proboscis, he essayed
The sweet repast, that he had shunn'd before:—
While in this renovation of the life
Of the frail, helpless insect of a day,
I felt a pleasure that could ne'er have sprung
From taking it away.
These mystic gifts
Of breath, and motion, and the beating heart,
Shall we not guard them for the humblest thing,
From reverence to the Power that bade it run
Its little race,—and love the fleeting life
That He bestow'd? ”