Within unnumbered, fragile cells the bee Has locked the memory of quiet bowers Where roses climb, of rainbows after showers, Of blue, unclouded skies above a sea Of clover. Sensing want, most cleverly This artisan has stored his fragrant hours. His waxen walls hold hearts of summer flowers, Sweet souvenirs of blooming vine and tree. So, stored within my aching heart, I find Old memories -- the blueness of your eyes, Your touch, the music of your voice, your smile, A phrase portraying beauty of your mind. Each day the sweet for which my hunger cries I taste -- and I am satisfied awhile. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MY SENSES DO NOT DECEIVE ME by MARIANNE MOORE THE ENGLISH GRAVEYARD IN MALACCA by KAREN SWENSON JOHN BROWN'S BODY by CHARLES SPRAGUE HALL THE BOYS by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES THE HOUSEKEEPER by CHARLES LAMB A VISION UPON [THIS CONCEIT] OF THE FAERIE QUEENE (1) by WALTER RALEIGH |