BATHSHEBA came out to the sun, Out to our walled cherry-trees; The tears adown her cheek did run, Bathsheba standing in the sun, Telling the bees. My mother had that moment died; Unknowing, sped I to the trees, And plucked Bathsheba's hand aside; Then caught the name that there she cried Telling the bees. Her look I never can forget, I that held sobbing to her knees; The cherry-boughs above us met; I think I see Bathsheba yet Telling the bees. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...I AM THE PEOPLE, THE MOB by CARL SANDBURG THE SAD SHEPHERD by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS ODES: BOOK 1. ODE 1. PREFACE by MARK AKENSIDE SONG BEFORE SORROW by LOUISE A. BALDWIN KNAPWEED by ARTHUR CHRISTOPHER BENSON THE PASSION FLOWER by CHARLES GRANGER BLANDEN |