Poems (Baldwyn)/The Bee

by Augusta Baldwyn

THE BEE.

Why leave the sunny glade, sweet bee,
 When ev'ry flower is bright,
To dwell in this fair hour with me,
 In this secluded light?

My easement's veil'd with flow'ry vines
 And beautifully o'erspread;
And here a forest-tree entwines
 Its branches o'er my head.

But shadowy light like this, sweet bee,
 Should never be thy home:
Go rove among the flow'rs so free,
 And o'er the meadows roam.

Forth, forth she fled on buoyant wing;
 I bade the bee farewell;
But heard at eve the insect sing,
 And found her in a shell.

Oh, lov'lier home, thou gentle bee,
 Has never yet been found;
I give the blushing bow'r to thee,
 With mosses cover'd round.

No rose that trembles in the breeze
 Had e'er a fairer hue,
No cooler spot 'mong shady trees
 Has ever shelter'd yon.

Here when the stormy winds arise
 Thou shaft securely dwell;
And music whispers in the sighs
 That tremble in the shell.

When morning lit the summer sky
 The bee came forth again;
I let her from my casement fly,
 Nor look'd for her in vain.

She ever faithfully came home
 To her own chosen nest;
Each morning she afar would roam,
 But come at night to rest.

When autumn stripp'd the rustling trees
 And summer's smile was gone,
And winter whisper'd in the breeze
 And swept across the lawn,

I miss'd my gentle murm'ring bee,
 And sought her in her bower;
For well I knew, if she were free
 She'd not forget this hour.

I heard no softly-murm'ring sound
 Within that deep-sea shell;
But, raising it, I quickly found
 The bee I lov'd so well.

The sunny wings that in the morn
 Had waken'd me from rest,
In death's last struggle now were torn,
 And folded o'er her breast.

I plac'd her in her shell again
 And cover'd it with moss;—
None e'er my care shall seek in vain,
 Or find my friendship lost.