Within unnumbered, fragile cells the bee Has locked the memory of quiet bowers Where roses climb, of rainbows after showers, Of blue, unclouded skies above a sea Of clover. Sensing want, most cleverly This artisan has stored his fragrant hours. His waxen walls hold hearts of summer flowers, Sweet souvenirs of blooming vine and tree. So, stored within my aching heart, I find Old memories -- the blueness of your eyes, Your touch, the music of your voice, your smile, A phrase portraying beauty of your mind. Each day the sweet for which my hunger cries I taste -- and I am satisfied awhile. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DOROTHY DANCES by LOUIS UNTERMEYER PEACE; A STUDY by CHARLES STUART CALVERLEY EACH IN HIS OWN TONGUE by WILLIAM HERBERT CARRUTH ODE TO FEAR by WILLIAM COLLINS (1721-1759) SONGS WITH PRELUDES: REGRET by JEAN INGELOW ON THE DEATHS OF THOMAS CARLYLE AND GEORGE ELIOT by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE THE CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE by ALFRED TENNYSON |