Our window-panes enthral our summer bees; (To insect woes I give this little page) -- We hear them threshing in their idle rage Those crystal floors of famine, while, at ease, Their outdoor comrades probe the nectaries Of flowers, and into all sweet blossoms dive; Then home, at sundown, to the happy hive, On forward wing, straight through the dancing flies; For such poor strays a full-plumbed wisp I keep, And when I see them pining, worn, and vext, I brush them softly with a downward sweep To the raised sash -- all-angered and perplext: So man, the insect, stands on his defense Against the very hand of Providence. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A LETTER FROM ITALY by JOSEPH ADDISON HOW DOES THE RAIN COME? by CHARLES ROLLIN BALLARD PSALM 129 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE LOVE AND THE MUSE by MATHILDE BLIND ZOPHIEL; OR THE BRIDE OF SEVEN: CANTO 3. PALACE OF THE GNOMES by MARIA GOWEN BROOKS PRE-TOWNMEETING TALK IN VERMONT by DANIEL LEAVENS CADY |