Pardon me, all ye birds that float at ease, That I begrudged your fleet aerial joys; And thou, poor Partlet! and ye little bees, That hum and hover with a pleasant noise About your homes of honey! 'twas a spirt Of spleen - a peevish murmur of disease, And not a measured curse to do you hurt: And thou! who for a moment did'st displease, Commission'd to rebuke my pride, and spring Thy tiny pennons on me unaware; Thy smart and sudden lesson was the thing I needed. - Thou art gone I know not where! But I have seen, beside my gouty chair, A chiding angel, of the smallest wing. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BEFORE THE FLOWERS OF FRIENDSHIP FADED FADED: 21 by GERTRUDE STEIN A NOCTURNAL REVERIE by ANNE FINCH THE LAST CHRYSANTHEMUM by THOMAS HARDY A SONG TO MITHRAS by RUDYARD KIPLING TELLING THE BEES (A COLONIAL CUSTOM) by LIZETTE WOODWORTH REESE THE BELLS AT MIDNIGHT by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 34. REMINDING HER OF A PROMISE (4) by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT IF I COULD TOUCH by WILLIAM STANLEY BRAITHWAITE BRITANNIA'S PASTORALS: BOOK 3. THE FIRST SONG by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) |