cicala

What would the dry cicala know of noontide?

From Life Immovable First Part by Aristides E. (Aristides Evangelus) Phoutrides

Glow-worms and fireflies gleamed like diamonds among the foliage, and outside was heard the splashing of the tiny waves and the shrill cry of the cicala.

From A Desperate Voyage by Edward Frederick Knight

Thyrsis, let honey and the honeycomb Fill thy sweet mouth, and figs of Ægilus: For ne'er cicala trilled so sweet a song.

From Theocritus, translated into English Verse by Theocritus

A cicala in the grass outside began his evening note of challenge.

From The Outcaste by F. E. Penny

Brown cicala drily proses,       Creaking the hot air to sleep,     Bounteous orange flowers and roses,       Yield the wealth of love they keep,   To the sun's imperious ardour in a dream of fragrance deep.

From What I Remember, Volume 2 by Thomas Adolphus Trollope

Gradually, as we advanced further up the green channel, the perfumes became more penetrating, and the monotonous chirp of the cicalas swelled out like an orchestral crescendo.

From Madame Chrysantheme by Pierre Loti

An orchestra, discreetly subdued but innumerable, of crickets and cicalas, accompanies them in an unceasing tremolo,—the immense far-reaching tremolo, which, gentle and eternal, never ceases on Japanese land.

From Madame Chrysantheme by Pierre Loti

The octagon tower casts a shade Cool and gray like a cutlass blade; In sun-baked vines the cicalas spin, The little green lizards run out and in.

From A Dome of Many-Coloured Glass by Amy Lowell

I, with none beside, Save hoarse cicalas shrilling through the brake, Still track your footprints 'neath the broiling sun.

From The Bucolics and Eclogues by Virgil

For instance, the swallows sing at morn, the cicalas at noon, the night-owl late in the dark, the screech-owl at even, the horned-owl at midnight, the cock before the dawn.

From The Apologia and Florida of Apuleius of Madaura by Harold Edgeworth Butler

Close to her ear a cicale chirped, monotonously bright; far off, from every hill, the frogs began their evening singing.

From What Not A Prophetic Comedy by Dame Rose Macaulay

The sound of the river and of the cicale is all the noise we hear.

From Life and Letters of Robert Browning by Robert Browning

A dry cicale chirps to a lass making hay, "Why creak'st thou, Tithonus?" quoth she.

From Ionica by William (AKA William Johnson) Cory

A dry cicale chirps to a lass making hay, “Why creak’st thou, Tithonus?” quoth she.

From Books and Habits from the Lectures of Lafcadio Hearn by Lafcadio Hearn

Thus we floated down the widening stream of the Po, sleeping when the cicale sang, awake with the stars.

From The Last Man by Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley