(ode to bug)

We here salute   the least of God’s creatures,

the  (humble bug),

beside whom   e’en the Humble Woodchuck

doth seem proud.

Nay,  but for the bug,

the Ladder of Nature  had collapsed,

lacking a footing.

Oft kroch ein Käfer kribbelkrab

Am hübschen Blümlein  auf und ab.

-- Wilhelm Busch

And here we have a little poem written by an actual bug.
(Here you can see him actually writing it.)

O Noes !!

O ...  Noes!  Da it-tle bug!

Bug  not  know!   Bug all confused!

Meb-beh   kit-teh    eat     da bug !!!

Allgone bug   go allgone !!!!!!   (runrunrun)

(Fragments of consciousness, like sparks --

nay   like  fireflies

in the dark …)

Thumbnail summary for the busy business-man:

All U really need 2 know about bugs

Flash!

Recent figures released by the Department of Agriculture

reveal that there remain only 934 Americans

who have yet to savor the pleasures

of the pistol-packing, wise-cracking

Murphy Brothers, P.I.s.

If you are among these unfortunate few,

make up for lost time here:

I Don't Do Divorce Cases

Murphy on the Mount.

[Update -- or rather, retrodate]
Cf. James Thomson's poem "Summer" (1727):
   the mighty chain of beings, lessening down
   from infinite perfection  to the brink
   of dreary nothing, desolate abyss...

(Comments Bug:  "Well, I like that !!")

Moral:  Do ye not look down  on Peter Paramecium !

.