And the beat of a clock from a distant floor:

On this scene enter - winged, horned, and spined -

A longlegs, a moth, and a *dumbledore;

While 'mid my page there idly stands

A sleepy fly, that rubs its hands ...

Thus meet we five, in this still place,

At this point of time, at this point in space.

- My guests besmear my new-penned line,

Or bang at the lamp and fall supine.

"God's humblest, they!" I muse. Yet why?