Poems (Jackson)/My Bees
MY BEES.
AN ALLEGORY,
"
BEES, sweet bees!" I said, "that nearest fieldIs shining white with fragrant immortelles.Fly swiftly there and drain those honey wells."Then, spicy pines the sunny hive to shield,I set, and patient for the autumn's yieldOf sweet I waited.Of sweet I waited.When the village bellsRang frosty clear, and from their satin cellsThe chestnuts leaped, rejoicing, I unsealedMy hive.My hive.Alas! no snowy honey thereWas stored. My wicked bees had borne awayTheir queen and left no trace.Their queen and left no trace.That very day,An idle drone who sauntered through the airI tracked and followed, and he led me whereMy truant bees and stolen honey lay.Twice faithless bees! They had sought out to eatRank, bitter herbs. The honey was not sweet.
BEES, sweet bees!" I said, "that nearest fieldIs shining white with fragrant immortelles.Fly swiftly there and drain those honey wells."Then, spicy pines the sunny hive to shield,I set, and patient for the autumn's yieldOf sweet I waited.Of sweet I waited.When the village bellsRang frosty clear, and from their satin cellsThe chestnuts leaped, rejoicing, I unsealedMy hive.My hive.Alas! no snowy honey thereWas stored. My wicked bees had borne awayTheir queen and left no trace.Their queen and left no trace.That very day,An idle drone who sauntered through the airI tracked and followed, and he led me whereMy truant bees and stolen honey lay.Twice faithless bees! They had sought out to eatRank, bitter herbs. The honey was not sweet.