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Reflections and Nature
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The Bee
ReplyDeleteby: Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)
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
Their chivalry consumes,
While he, victorious, tilts away
To vanquish other blooms.
His feet are shod with gauze,
His helmet is of gold;
His breast, a single onyx
With chrysoprase, inlaid.
His labor is a chant,
His idleness a tune;
Oh, for a bee's experience
Of clovers and of noon!
Beautiful! I love the last verse and especially: "Oh, for a bee's experience of clovers and of noon" Emily Dickinson had exquisite perception and enchants us with her delicate descriptions.
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