Glade Park Library


As this poem by Uncle Monte illustrates, some things, like gnat season, remain unchanged over the years. Except that back in 1900, when this was written, they did not have Skin So Soft, by Avon, as a repellent.(I'm not kidding, it works!)

M.E."Monte" Moreland liked to use pen names, or sign "Anonymous" and let people try to figure out who wrote the piece. During the time this poem was written, he was editor of the Norwood Leader, and his favorite pen name was "Rambler". This poem was published in the Norwood Leader.

Look for it in 100 years: This poem, along with the Home Page of glade-park.com, and a post card from the Glade Park Store, were selected to represent Glade Park in the Mesa County 125th Anniversary time capsule. It was placed at the old Mesa Country courthouse and will be opened in 100 years.

The Beautiful Gnat!

By Rambler


Oh! The gnat, the beautiful gnat.
Thicker than fleas on poverty flat!
Over the housetops, over the street,
Filling the ears of people they meet:
Flying, buzzing, zipping along.
Beautiful gnat! Dost not know that its wrong.
Kissing each lady square on the cheek,
Clinging to lips in a frolicsome freak?
Beautiful gnat! From the regions below,
What relation are you to the beautiful snow?

O! the gnat, the beautiful gnat,
How they flock together and laugh and
Whirling about in their maddening fun,
Playing the devil with everyone,
Chasing, laughing, hurrying by:
It lights on your face & gets stuck in your eye.
And the dogs, even to my old fox hound,
Crawl into the first hole that can be found:
None, I am sure, would dare undertake
To deny that you really walk off with the cake!

“Why has Steve Morgan gone up to the Cone?”
(Author was actually in the Disappointment Valley area when he wrote this and this is a reference to the Lone Cone mountain).
You are to blame sir, for that alone.
“And the village blacksmith, why layed on the shelf?”
You’d better ask him that question yourself.
Ringing, singing, and stinging you go,
Where you carry all you get, is what I’d like to know.
And yet, methinks, I hear thee exclaim:
“Don’t you forget it, I get there just the same.
Tho’ small in stature, you’ve no cause to doubt,
That I make Rome howl when my stinger is out!”


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