The Fox And The Grapes.

^[1]

A fox, almost with hunger dying,
Some grapes upon a trellis spying,
To all appearance ripe, clad in
Their tempting russet skin,
Most gladly would have eat them;
But since he could not get them,
So far above his reach the vine -
'They're sour,' he said; 'such grapes as these,
The dogs may eat them if they please!'

Did he not better than to whine?

Jean de La Fontaine

Jean de La Fontaine was a renowned French fabulist and poet. Born on July 8, 1621, he is best known for his 'Fables,' which have been admired for their witty and insightful depiction of human nature and society. La Fontaine's fables are considered classics of French literature and have had a long-lasting impact on both the literary world and popular culture. He passed away on April 13, 1695.

Jean de La Fontaine

The Lion Grown Old.

Jean de La Fontaine, Simple Poetry

The Sun And The Frogs.

Jean de La Fontaine, Simple Poetry

The Frog And The Rat.

Jean de La Fontaine, Simple Poetry

The Will Explained By Aesop.

Jean de La Fontaine, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

The Fox And The Grapes.

Rosy and ripe, and ready to box,
The grapes hang high o'er the hungry Fox. -
He pricks up his ears, and his eye he cocks.

Ripe and rosy, yet so high! -
He gazes at them with a greedy eye,
And knows he must eat and drink - or die.

When the jump proves to be beyond his power -
"Pooh!" says the Fox. "Let the pigs devour
Fruit of that sort. Those grapes are sour!"

Jean de La Fontaine

The Fox & The Grapes

This Fox has a longing for grapes,
He jumps, but the bunch still escapes.
So he goes away sour;
And, 'tis said, to this hour
Declares that he's no taste for grapes.


The Grapes Of Disappointment Are Always Sour

Walter Crane

The Fox And The Goat.

^[1]

A fox once journey'd, and for company
A certain bearded, horned goat had he;
Which goat no further than his nose could see.
The fox was deeply versed in trickery.
These travellers did thirst compel
To seek the bottom of a well.
There, having drunk enough for two,
Says fox, 'My friend, what shall we do?
'Tis time that we were thinking
Of something else than drinking.
Raise you your feet upon the wall,
And stick your horns up straight and tall;
Then up your back I'll climb with ease,
And draw you after, if you please.'
'Yes, by my beard,' the other said,
''Tis just the thing. I like a head
Well stock'd with sense, like thine.
Had it been left to mine,
I do confess,
I never should have thought of this.'
So Renard clam...

Jean de La Fontaine

The Ambitious Fox And The Unapproachable Grapes

A farmer built around his crop
A wall, and crowned his labors
By placing glass upon the top
To lacerate his neighbors,
Provided they at any time
Should feel disposed the wall to climb.

He also drove some iron pegs
Securely in the coping,
To tear the bare, defenceless legs
Of brats who, upward groping,
Might steal, despite the risk of fall,
The grapes that grew upon the wall.

One day a fox, on thieving bent,
A crafty and an old one,
Most shrewdly tracked the pungent scent
That eloquently told one
That grapes were ripe and grapes were good
And likewise in the neighborhood.

He threw some stones of divers shapes
The luscious fruit to jar off:
It made him ill to see the grapes
So near and yet so far off.
His throws we...

Guy Wetmore Carryl

The Fox, The Flies, And The Hedgehog.

^[1]

A fox, old, subtle, vigilant, and sly, -
By hunters wounded, fallen in the mud, -
Attracted, by the traces of his blood,
That buzzing parasite, the fly.
He blamed the gods, and wonder'd why
The Fates so cruelly should wish
To feast the fly on such a costly dish.
'What! light on me! make me its food!
Me, me, the nimblest of the wood!
How long has fox-meat been so good?
What serves my tail? Is it a useless weight?
Go, - Heaven confound thee, greedy reprobate! -
And suck thy fill from some more vulgar veins!'
A hedgehog, witnessing his pains,
(This fretful personage
Here graces first my page,)
Desired to set him free
From such cupidity.
'My neighbour fox,' said he,
My quills these rascals shall empale,
And ease thy to...

Jean de La Fontaine

The Stag And The Vine.

^[1]

A stag, by favour of a vine,
Which grew where suns most genial shine,
And form'd a thick and matted bower
Which might have turn'd a summer shower,
Was saved from ruinous assault.
The hunters thought their dogs at fault,
And call'd them off. In danger now no more
The stag, a thankless wretch and vile,
Began to browse his benefactress o'er.
The hunters, listening the while,
The rustling heard, came back,
With all their yelping pack,
And seized him in that very place.
'This is,' said he, 'but justice, in my case.
Let every black ingrate
Henceforward profit by my fate.'
The dogs fell to - 'twere wasting breath
To pray those hunters at the death.
They left, and we will not revile 'em,
A warning for profaners of asylum.

Jean de La Fontaine