The Bee
by Emily Dickinson
Like trains of cars on tracks of plush
I hear the level bee:
A jar across the flowers goes,
Their velvet masonry
Withstands until the sweet assault
Their chivalry consumes,
While he, victorious, tilts away
To vanquish other blooms.
His feet are shod with gauze,
His helmet is of gold;
His breast, a single onyx
With chrysoprase, inlaid.
His labor is a chant,
His idleness a tune;
Oh, for a bee’s experience
Of clovers and of noon!
From Poems, ed. by Mabel Loomis Todd and T. W. Higginson (Roberts Brothers, 1890).
“His labor is a chant,
His idleness a tune”. 🎶 The bee as the very model for poets! 🐝
One of my favorites to share with students, thanks for the joyful read :).