Poems (Curwen)/A Visit to the Bee's Cot
A Visit to the Bee's Cot.
BUSY BEE SOCIETY.
From the blinding glare of sunshine, And over-powering heat, We found in the hospital garden A cool and sweet retreat;
And one little lassie lying A picture of perfect ease, In her canvas cot, on the greensward Screened by the sheltering trees.
Following our kind conductress, We entered the open door, Passed down the spacious passage, With its well-waxed shining floor,
And pictured walls, to the staircase, Which led to the ward, where we Found the patient we were seeking— The charge of the "Busy Bee."
She lay by the open window Through which the sweet breeze came, Fanning her little wan, white face, And emaciated frame.
The voices of feathered songsters Came up from the grounds below, Where the butterflies were flitting In the sunshine, too and fro.
And my heart went out in pity To the child whose wistful eyes Were gazing out through the window At the beautiful smiling skies;
And I thought while sitting near her, Holding her wasted wee hand, Of pastures green and fadeless flow'rs, Away in the Better Land:
Thought of that wonderful city, With its streets of shining gold, And I half wished "Gentle Jesus" Might convey her to His fold.
But Lizzie must wait the Father's time, She must live and suffer too; And while she's here, remember, dears, She's dependent upon you.
Think what a blessed privilege Is yours, and your good Queen Bee's, To do this holy work for God: Heav'n widen your sympathies.
Toil on, O busy bees, toil on, And your reward will be, When Christ shall say, "What ye have done For her, was done to Me."