LOVE has crept out of her sealéd heart | |
As a field-bee, black and amber, | |
Breaks from the winter-cell, to clamber | |
Up the warm grass where the sunbeams start. | |
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Mischief has come in her dawning eyes, | 5 |
And a glint of coloured iris brings | |
Such as lies along the folded wings | |
Of the bee before he flies. | |
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Who, with a ruffling, careful breath, | |
Has opened the wings of the wild young sprite? | 10 |
Has fluttered her spirit to stumbling flight | |
In her eyes, as a young bee stumbleth? | |
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Love makes the burden of her voice. | |
The hum of his heavy, staggering wings | |
Sets quivering with wisdom the common things | 15 |
That she says, and her words rejoice. | |