Little gnat that buzzes 'round,
Persistently posed in front of my pondering,
Never caring if I smile or frown,
Just glad (I think) to intrude my wondering.

Do you know I work nightly ?
Morning dove with song so sweet,
The song so sweet would cease shortly
If you had not taken to wing, but to feet.

In my soul nature still holds true,
But what would Wordsworth understand
Reclining in glistening dew,
What nature has made of this man.