The Ants by John Clare Lyrics

What wonder strikes the curious, while he views
The black ant's city, by a rotten tree
Or woodland bank! In ignorance we muse
Pausing, annoyed,--we know not what we see
Such government and thought there seem to be
Some looking on, and urging some to toil
Dragging their loads of bent-stalks slavishly
And what's more wonderful, when big loads foil
One ant or two to carry, quickly then
A swarm flock round to help their fellow-men
Surely they speak a language whisperingly
Too fine for us to hear; and sure their ways
Prove they have kings and laws, and that they be
Deformed remnants of the Fairy-days