That Ant

THAT ANT That frangible small thing Is it plausible poor thing? To puddle, wade then die? You labour without respite Yet you never tire For many days you built a hill With the rest of your race you took to toil But that turbid giant crushed it underfoot Nothing daunted, in a spate, another was afoot How obstinate is your optimism? And how shallow depths your anger’s chasm! Today I saw you struggle up that wall Hard upon the unrelenting facade’s toll Again and again like your life’s prize Tumbling yet ever again but again to rise Oh, how you stupefy even those wise Not twice but again, and again twice You moved a little to the right and again And at once you scaled to the plain And as you hurried away on the flat I bid my guru of the hardest art