Aeronautics

A flea and a fly in a flue,
Were imprisoned; now what could they do?
    Said the fly, "let us flee."
    "Let us fly," said the flea,
And they flew through a flaw in the flue.

Unknown

The identity of this poet is not known. Their works, which are often of significant historical or cultural value, have been attributed to 'Unknown'. This designation is commonly used when the creator of works, ranging from ancient texts to more modern writings, remains anonymous or uncredited. Despite the lack of personal details, the impact and importance of these works endure, offering insight into the eras and cultures from which they originated.

Unknown

Nursery Rhyme. DCLIX. Relics.

Unknown , Simple Poetry

Nursery Rhyme. CI. Proverbs.

Unknown , Simple Poetry

Nursery Rhyme. CCCCXXII. Jingles.

Unknown , Simple Poetry

Nursery Rhyme. CCCXCIX. Lullabies.

Unknown , Simple Poetry

English

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Aeroplanes

A genius who once did aspire
To invent an aerial flyer,
    When asked, "Does it go?"
    Replied, "I don't know;
I'm awaiting some damphule to try 'er."

Unknown

The Fly And The Ant.

^[1]

A fly and ant, upon a sunny bank,
Discuss'd the question of their rank.
'O Jupiter!' the former said,
'Can love of self so turn the head,
That one so mean and crawling,
And of so low a calling,
To boast equality shall dare
With me, the daughter of the air?
In palaces I am a guest,
And even at thy glorious feast.
Whene'er the people that adore thee
May immolate for thee a bullock,
I'm sure to taste the meat before thee.
Meanwhile this starveling, in her hillock,
Is living on some bit of straw
Which she has labour'd home to draw.
But tell me now, my little thing,
Do you camp ever on a king,
An emperor, or lady?
I do, and have full many a play-day
On fairest bosom of the fair,
And sport myself upon her hair.

Jean de La Fontaine

The Fly

How large unto the tiny fly
    Must little things appear! -
A rosebud like a feather bed,
    Its prickle like a spear;

A dewdrop like a looking-glass,
    A hair like golden wire;
The smallest grain of mustard-seed
    As fierce as coals of fire;

A loaf of bread, a lofty hill;
    A wasp, a cruel leopard;
And specks of salt as bright to see
    As lambkins to a shepherd.

Walter De La Mare

Envoi

Fly, white butterflies, out to sea,
Frail pale wings for the winds to try,
Small white wings that we scarce can see
Fly.

Here and there may a chance-caught eye
Note in a score of you twain or three
Brighter or darker of tinge or dye.

Some fly light as a laugh of glee,
Some fly soft as a low long sigh:
All to the haven where each would be
Fly.

Algernon Charles Swinburne

The Flight

When the grey geese heard the Fool's tread
Too near to where they lay,
They lifted neither voice nor head,
But took themselves away.
No water broke, no pinion whirred,
There went no warning call.
The steely, sheltering rushes stirred
A little, that was all.
Only the osiers understood,
And the drowned meadows spied
What else than wreckage of a flood
Stole outward on that tide.
But the far beaches saw their ranks
Gather and greet and grow
By myriads on the naked banks
Watching their sign to go;
Till, with a roar of wings that churned
The shivering shoals to foam,
Flight after flight took air and turned
To find a safer home;
And, far below their steadfast wedge,
They heard (and hastened on)
Men thresh and clamour through the sedge

Rudyard

The Coach And The Fly.

^[1]

Upon a sandy, uphill road,
Which naked in the sunshine glow'd,
Six lusty horses drew a coach.
Dames, monks, and invalids, its load,
On foot, outside, at leisure trode.
The team, all weary, stopp'd and blow'd:
Whereon there did a fly approach,
And, with a vastly business air.
Cheer'd up the horses with his buzz, -
Now pricked them here, now prick'd them there,
As neatly as a jockey does, -
And thought the while - he knew 'twas so -
He made the team and carriage go, -
On carriage-pole sometimes alighting -
Or driver's nose - and biting.
And when the whole did get in motion,
Confirm'd and settled in the notion,
He took, himself, the total glory, -
Flew back and forth in wondrous hurry,
And, as he buzz'd about the cattle,

Jean de La Fontaine