A big blue-bottle numbs itself against the window pane Its drone alone sends sunbeams down into my cranium At close range though, the animal is drilling on the summer in short, furious bursts; the measures of its desperation so becoming shriller and shriller, as the interludes through which it crawls exhausted, one leg trailing along the windowsill, draw out its pauses...
In the dozing vale of the afternoon, a voluntary fireman's bands soft oompahs, gain enough allure, to call us through the landscape to the flats and sharps, and the frenetic larks and back-slaps of the county fair. Where later on an old farm laborer in the lapse of evening, limping home through clouds of sand-flies, drags one leg, the stale beer of some quarrel or other slopping as he laps the dregs.
