Classic Poem

Shrill-humming, impudent gnats, suckers of human blood, two-winged night beasts, I beseech you, let Zenophile sleep tranquilly for a little — look, here is my own flesh, devour it.
I implore them fruitlessly. These beasts of prey delight to luxuriate on delicate flesh. But I warn you to cease your insolence, vile beasts, or you will learn the weight of jealous hands!