Page:The Poets and Poetry of the West.djvu/274

This page needs to be proofread.

258 JAMES W. WARD. [18:30-40. SONG OF THE MOSQUITO. In the dreamy hour of night I'll hie, When the hum is hushed of the weary fly, When the lamps are lit, and the curtains drawn, And sport on my wings till the morning's dawn. In the halls where the hours go joyously by, In the chamber hushed where the sleepers lie, In the garden-bower, where the primrose smiles, And the chirping cricket the hour beguiles ; In these I'll sport through the summer night, And mortals to vex, I'll bite, I'll bite. II. There is one I view with a hostile eye ; A flame of pride in his breast I spy ; He breathes in the flute with a master's skill. And li-st'ning crowds the rich strains fill With the rapturous thrill of melody ; But he carries his head so haughtily, I'll play him a trick ; in his happiest swell, When the lingering trill, with a magic spell. Holds all entranced, I'll take my flight, And pop on -his nose, and I'll bite, I'll bite There's a poet I know ; in the still mid night - ■ He plies the pen by a taper's light ; And, Avearied of eai;th, in a world of his own, With fancy he rambles, where flowers are strewn Of fadeless hue, and he images there A creature to worship in the pure still air, With the world around from his sense shut out, He heeds not the buzz of my round-about. And when a new image has broke on his sight. Ere he gives it existence, I'll bite, I'll bite. And the long-courted vision shall vanish, while I, In a snug little corner, will watch him so shy. As he thumps his brow in a feverish rage. And dashes his pen o'er the blotted page. And I see a young maid in her chamber napping. And I know that love at her heart is tap- ping; She dreams of a youth, and smiles in bliss. As she puts up her lips to receive his fond kiss ; But she shall not taste of the gentle de- light, For I'll light on her lips, and I'll bite, I'll bite. THE WORD OF PROMISE. When o'er thy heart comes sorrow's blight, As o'er the day steal shades of night ; When hope has fled, And joy is dead, And thy head in wretchedness bends down Beneath the weight of fortune's frown ; When summer friends pass by And tears bedim thine eye ; — Receive the promise trustingly, '• As is thy day thy strength shall be." When earth has proved a mockery, And faith and love, still sought by thee.