Page:Verses–Blanche·Baughan-1898.pdf/15



BUMBLE’S dead! the young Grass springs, Deep in blue a Laverock sings, Violets nestle ’mid the lines Of the bold bright Celandines, Willow her golden goblet spills, And puffs of airy wine distils, Almond-scented and honey-fed;— Bumble’s not asleep, he’s dead!

Dear big beautiful brown Bee, What hurt you? Let me look and see. . Thighs, and breast, and head and back— No! There's not the slightest crack In these greaves of burnish’d brass, In this velvety cuirass,