Like trains of cars on tracks of plush I hear the level bee: A jar across the flowers goes, Their velvet masonry Withstands until the sweet assault Their chivalry consumes, While he, victorious, tilts away To vanquish other blooms. His feet are shod with gauze, His helmet is of gold; His breast, a single onyx With chrysoprase, inlaid. His labor is a chant, His idleness a tune; Oh, for a bee's experience Of clovers and of noon! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...COWPER'S GRAVE by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING THE STATUE AND THE BUST by ROBERT BROWNING THE TRIUMPHS OF OWEN: A FRAGMENT by THOMAS GRAY SPRING by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS DREAMS OLD AND NASCENT: NASCENT by DAVID HERBERT LAWRENCE A GENTLE ECHO ON WOMAN (IN THE DORIC MANNER) by JONATHAN SWIFT |