No. II.—THE MOSQUITO.
I am a restless Mosquito,
Well hated by the world, I know,
For faults that are not mine;
I bite to live (some live to bite),
I sting from sheer necessity, not spite,—
I would my lot were thine.
I'd take thy bites, you'd love my sting,
And bear the petty pains they bring
Just like a Hindoo Saint;
I would not blame you, 'bottle fly,
You have to live the same as I—
A beauty without paint.
We cannot all be butterflies,
Or larks that carol in the skies,—
Take life for what it's worth;
We've all our wretched aches and pains,
Our losses now—and now our gains—
A little while on earth.
And when we get our final call—
Mosquito, pole-cat, skunk, and all
The vermin meek or bold—
We shall not for the verdict quake,
We've lived our lives for Nature's sake,
And done what we were told.