MOTHER tells little bee, Yonder wax taper flee; But for his mother's prayers Little bee little cares. Round the light hovers he, Humming all merrily; Mother's cry hears not he, Little bee! Little bee! Youthful one! Foolish one! Poor little simpleton! In the flame rusheth he, Little bee! Little bee! Now the flame flickers high, In the flame he must die: 'Ware of the maidens, then, Sons of men! Sons of men! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MATER IN EXTREMIS by JEAN STARR UNTERMEYER THOSE VARIOUS SCALPELS by MARIANNE MOORE THE DEATH OF LYON by HENRY PETERSON THE NEW YEAR by ALFRED TENNYSON WITH A COPY OF CALVERLEY by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS TO MISS F. B. ON ASKING FOR MRS. BARBAULD'S LOVE AND TIME by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD |