University of Virginia Library

Maid and Mosquito.

A maiden sat at midday hour,
Beneath a shady tree,
She heard a noise within her bower,
“My soul, what can it be?”
She looked around, but looked in vain,
For nothing met her gaze,
She quieted down to read again,
Its voice again was raised.

120

Hark! hush! I know it can't be far,
'Tis clearer than before,
Is it the whistle of the car,
Or distant thunder's roar?
Ah! soon I'll know for here it comes,
My nerves quake in their bud,
For with its long and pointed tongue
'Twill pierce and drink my blood.
My doom is sealed, I know my fate,
O! would that I were a man,
He darts from his ærial state
And lights upon her hand.
She screamed for help and raised a stick
And fought, for she could not hide,
The great mosquito gave a kick,
Fell from her hand and died.
She could not read because she had
Deep meditating thoughts,
She stood and gazed upon the spot
Where she'nd the skeeter fought.
But presently she heard a noise
Circling around her head,
And there was a score of skeeters,
Singing songs of the dead.

121

She closed her book and sat upright,
The skeeters increased their mew,
She saw she could not stand it long,
So she grabbed her book and flew.