Of all the pesky, ugly and boringest of bugly Blood-sucking insect incubi I know, By far the worst is chigre, a pregnant flea no bigger Than just an atom of a second's toe. Nor "Don't you come!" nor dodgement checks uninvited lodgement Of chigre's spawn beneath my tender skin, Where she, bold bug, deposits her eggs by sixties, closets Her imps, without a qualm of conscience in. Zoologists say: "Spray them; tobacco juice will slay them," But, pshaw! all ointments ever known, it seems, Are vain to stop the twitching and seven-year-like itching And sleepless nights of pain that are no dreams. When, from the crowd's commotion, my seared feet take a notion To stray from furnace-hot cement -- Alas! There is the chigre's warning, each verdant blade adorning: "No trespassing allowed! Keep off the grass!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FOREST MAID by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT A DIRGE by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI MAUD MULLER by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER THE BEAUTIFUL LAND OF NOD by ELLA WHEELER WILCOX TO MY READERS by ALEXANDER ANDERSON PASSIO XL MARTYRUM by ARTHUR E. BAKER |