Dum aetatis ver agitur: consule brumae
In winter coulde, when tree, and bushe, was bare,
And frost had nip'd the rootes of tender grasse:
The antes, with joye did feede upon their fare,
Which they had stor'de, while sommers season was:
To whome, for foode the grashopper did crie,
And said she starv'd, if they did helpe denie.
Whereat, an ante, with longe experience wise?
And frost, and snowe, had manie winters seene:
Inquired, what in sommer was her guise.
Quothe she, I songe, and hop't in meadowes greene:
Then quoth the ante, content thee with thy chaunce,
For to thy songe, nowe art thou light to daunce?