Into wild gardens I cast my gaze,
to find the flower which I could compare,
with the beauty that set my heart ablaze:
Alas! No such pedal did still my stare.
Divine beauty wrapped in delicate blossom,
did little for my humble heart.
It occurred to me that my search was in vain,
for beauty was not the half of your art.
I scoured the sky for the virtues that fly,
and the sea for ones that swim;
it was not until I searched the earth,
that I found what soothed my whim.
It was not the strength of the ox or the grace of the deer
that inspired me to sing;
it was the earwig – made by God –
which made my heart ring.
At once I knew that in this creature,
I had found an agent of virtue:
its efficiency of travel and complexity of build,
made it a most suitable thing to compare to you.