Dull as I was, to think that a Court Fly, Presum'd so neer her Eye; When 'twas th'industrious Bee Mistook her glorious Face for Paradise, To summe up all his Chymistry of Spice; With a brave pride and honour led, Neer both her Suns he makes his bed; And though a Spark struggles to rise as red: Then AEmulates the gay Daughter of Day, Acts the Romantick Phoenix fate: When now with all his Sweeets lay'd out in state, Lucasta scatters but one Heat, And all the Aromatick pills do sweat, And Gums calcin'd, themselves to powder beat; Which a fresh gale of Air Conveys into her Hair; Then chast he's set on fire, And in these holy flames doth glad expire; And that black marble Tablet there So neer her either Sphere, Was plac'd; nor foyl, nor Ornament, But the sweet little Bees large Monument. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE RIGHT TO DIE by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR TERNISSA, FR HELLENICS by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR THE HIGH-PRIEST TO ALEXANDER by ALFRED TENNYSON DEATH AT DAYBREAK by ANNE REEVE ALDRICH THE ARGONAUTS (ARGONATUICA): REMORSE by APOLLONIUS RHODIUS AD S. ANGELUM CUSTODEM by JOSEPH BEAUMONT ON READING THE 'RUBAIYAT' OF OMAR KHAYYAM IN A KENTISH ROSE GARDEN by MATHILDE BLIND CLIFF DWELLER LYRICS: ANY HOUSEWIFE'S LAMENT by BERTON BRALEY |