(prose poem)
How sweet to my ear is the sound of
the skeeter, when softly I crawl to my bed every night; the welcome, the
blessed, the musical skeeter, the soft, soothing skeeter I hear with delight.
Some talk of the plague of the summer mosquito, and try with a curse for to
give him a slap; but I think he is cute and his song is so sweet O, I yearn for
his presence when taking a nap. The blessed musketeer, the welcome musketeer,
the soft, soothing skeeter who guardeth my nap.
July
11, 1897
Little
Joker for
May,
‘98
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