On The Housefly And Mosquito Poem by Goodness Tchibueze

The murmuring of the earth is never dead:
When all the chugging mouths are faint with rust,
And chew some endless cud, a voice will thrust
Pressing our drums; pestering the body and head -
That is the Housefly's.He takes the lead
In stinking luxury, he has never done
With his bathe-like dance, for when worn-out with fun,
He rests at ease beneath some filthy weed,

The murmuring of the earth is ceasing never:
On a mute lukewarm night, when the warmth air
Has wrought a gathering, from the shadowy dark
Arises a flinty Mosquito's, frenzied ever
And seem to one lost in drowsy despair
The Housefly's among some dirt-heaped park!