An August Midnight

Another Thomas Hardy poem, but quite different from the last one. I suspect that few of us welcome insects into our homes.   We might just be more tolerant of bumblebees (Hardy’s dumbledore) as we tend to view these more positively than we do flies, although we know they are better off outside.

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.

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