Kindness to Insects

I saw a Melancholy WaspUpon a Purple Clover Knosp,Who wept, "The Poets do me Wrong,Excluding me from Noble Song --Though Pure am I and Wholly Crimeless --Because, they say, my Name is Rhymeless!Oh, had I but been born a Bee,With Heaps of Words to Rhyme with me,I should not want for PanegyricsIn Sonnets, Epics, Odes and Lyrics!Will no one free me from the CurseThat bars my Race from Lofty Verse?""My Friend, that Little Thing I'll care forAt once," said I -- and that is whereforeSo tenderly I set that WaspUpon a Purple Clover Knosp.