A story.
19
Now were the blossoms of Summer fled,
And the bumble-bee felt the frost;
He knew that the asters all lay dead,
And the honey-vine cups were lost.
And the bumble-bee felt the frost;
He knew that the asters all lay dead,
And the honey-vine cups were lost.
So.he poised and fluttered above the flower,
And tried his tenderest arts,
With whispers and kisses, a weary hour,
Till he opened its heart of hearts.
And tried his tenderest arts,
With whispers and kisses, a weary hour,
Till he opened its heart of hearts.
Not for love of the gentian blue,
But for his own wild will;
All he wanted was honey-dew,
And there he drank his fill.
But for his own wild will;
All he wanted was honey-dew,
And there he drank his fill.
No more dreaming in sun or shade!
It never could close again!
The gentian withered, alone, dismayed;
The bee flew over the plain.
It never could close again!
The gentian withered, alone, dismayed;
The bee flew over the plain.
