"I, madam," quoth he, "Am a publican Bee, Collecting the tax Of honey and wax. Have you nothing for me?" On the JOHN B. TABB. To the Grasshopper and the Cricket One to the fields, the other to the hearth, At your clear hearts; and both seem given to To sing in thoughtful ears their natural song,— LEIGH HUNT. On the Wing The Bee 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 To vanquish other blooms. His feet are shod with gauze, His labor is a chant, His idleness a tune; Of clovers and of noon! EMILY DICKINSON. The Humble-Bee Burly, dozing humble-bee, Where thou art is clime for me. Thou animated torrid zone! Zigzag steerer, desert cheerer, Insect lover of the sun, Sailor of the atmosphere; Swimmer through the waves of air; Voyager of light and noon; Epicurean of June,— Wait, I prithee, till I come Within earshot of thy hum,— When the south wind, in May days, With a net of shining haze Silvers the horizon wall, And with softness touching all, Tints the human countenance Turns the sod to violets, Hot midsummer's petted crone, On the On the Tells of countless sunny hours, Of Syrian peace, immortal leisure, Aught unsavory or unclean Hath my insect never seen; But violets and bilberry bells, Maple-sap and daffodels, Grass with green flag half-mast high, Succory to match the sky, Columbine with horn of honey, Wiser far than human seer, Thou dost mock at fate and care, Leave the chaff and take the wheat; Want and woe, which torture us, Thy sleep makes ridiculous. RALPH WALDO EMERSON. All Things Wait Upon Thee Innocent eyes not ours And made to look on flowers, Eyes of small birds, and insects small; Morn after summer morn The sweet rose on her thorn Opens her bosom to them all. The last and least of things, That soar on quivering wings, Or crawl among the grass blades out of sight, To their appointed portion of delight As queens or kings. CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI. Providence Lo, the lilies of the field, How their leaves instruction yield! Every bush and tufted tree On the Wing |