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.
-An August Midnight by Thomas Hardy
• • • • • • •
I feel I may soon dream of James and that giant peach …
Meant to read just one- one page, one poem- before a little sleep.
Half a book of Hardy later, thoughts of night, of quiet lone walks now repeat.
Above, lies the last read.
A nice note to end on:
Give honor and respect to even the small and common.
The “humblest”, says he.
For each and all know of something we as yet do not.
Those sideburns … George Burns … Gracie … say “goodnight” … goodnight … goodnight, Gracie …