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Updated: May 15, 2025
This is the tit-bit, not very substantial, but extremely tasty, it would seem. Here, in fact, in the insect's crop, the syrup is accumulated, the sugary sap which the Cicada's gimlet taps from the tender bark. Is it because of this dainty that the prey's abdomen is preferred to any other morsel? It is quite possible.
Just a little more breadth in your bow-stroke, my dear Green Grasshopper, and your technique would be better than the hoarse Cicada's, whose name and reputation you have been made to usurp in the countries of the north. Still, you will never equal your neighbour, the little bell-ringing Toad, who goes tinkling all round, at the foot of the plane-trees, while you click up above.
So quivered the same heat in the city's empty thoroughfares. Flowers rioted in the unkept gardens. The cicada's frying note fried hotter than ever. Dazzling thunder-heads towered in the upper blue and stood like snow mountains of a vaster world. The very snake coiled in the shade.
Si and Shorty, having finished their suppers, lighted their pipes, and strolled up through the regiment to talk over with the others the events of the day and the probabilities of the morrow. Left alone, the tongues of the excited boys became loosened, and ran like the vibrations of a cicada's rattle. "Wasn't it just wonderful?" said Monty Scruggs.
He strove to stem the current of his thoughts, to keep his mind a blank, or to concentrate on trivialities he followed with exaggerated interest the swift erratic course of a bat that had flown in through the open door flap, counted the familiar objects around him showing dimly in the flickering light, counted innumerable sheep passing through the traditional gate, counted the seconds represented in the periodical silences that punctuated a cicada's monotonous shrilling.
He recognized the curious vocal organ, or vibratory drum, at the cicada's waist, and saw that some cicadas possessed it and others not; and he knew, as the poets also knew, that it was the males who sang, while their wives listened and were silent.
Yet our English brethren would try to persuade us that these men are but repeating the course and the deeds of the American Revolution! Only the dusty common road, The glaring weary heat; Only a man with a soldier's load, And the sound of tired feet. Only the lonely creaking hum Of the Cicada's song; Only a fence where tall weeds come With spikèd fingers strong.
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