Classic Poem

I SIT on my lofty piazza,
O'erlooking the restless sea;
(A spider glides over my forehead,
A cockroach runs over my knee!)

The god of the day is preparing
His bed for another night;
(A swarm of pestiferous sand-flies
Is obscuring the glorious sight!)

He's piling his cloud-blankets round him,
Of crimson embroidered with gold;
(That ant crawling under my collar,
Down my spine sends a shiver of cold!)

He's nodding — but with eye still half open
Tips a distant sail with his fire;
( Dios mio! another mosquito
Is twanging his dissonant lyre!)

He's sleeping — the night-lamps are twinkling
All around his limitless bed;
(A bat, darting hither and thither,
Has just missed hitting my head!)

Farewell till to-morrow, old fellow!
Thou warmest, most tropical friend!
(A centipede's slowly approaching —
'Tis time for my reverie to end!)