I

What joy you take in making hotness hotter, In emphasizing dullness with your buzz, Making monotony more monotonous! When summer comes, and drouth hath dried the water In all the creeks, we hear your ragged rasp Filing the stillness. Or,--as urchins beat A stagnant pond whereon the bubbles gasp,-- Your switch-like music whips the midday heat. O burr of sound caught in the Summer’s hair, We hear you everywhere.