LOVE has crept out of her sealéd
heart
As
a field-bee, black and amber,
Breaks from the winter-cell, to
clamber
Up the warm
grass where the sunbeams start.
Mischief has come in her dawning
eyes,
And a glint of coloured iris brings
Such as lies along
the folded wings
Of
the bee before he flies.
Who, with a ruffling, careful
breath,
Has opened the wings of the wild young
sprite?
Has fluttered her spirit to stumbling
flight
In her eyes,
as a young bee stumbleth?
Love makes the burden of her
voice.
The hum of his heavy, staggering wings
Sets quivering with
wisdom the common
things
That she says, and her words
rejoice.