AN AUGUST MIDNIGHT

A shaded lamp and a waving blind,

And the beat of a clock from a distant floor:

On this scene enter — winged, horned, and spined -

A longlegs, a moth, and a dumbledore;

While‘ mid my page there idly stands

A sleepy fly, that rubs its hands...

Thus meet we five, in this still place,

At this point of time, at this point in space.

- My guests parade my new-penned ink,

Or bang at the lamp-glass, whirl, and sink.

“God's humblest, they!” I muse. Yet why?

They know Earth-secrets that know not I.