| |
| BURLY, dozing humblebee! | |
| Where thou art is clime for me; | |
| Let me chase thy waving lines; | |
| Far-off heats through seas to seek, | |
| I will follow thee alone, | 5 |
| Thou animated torrid zone! | |
| Zigzag steerer, desert cheerer, | |
| Let me chase thy waving lines; | |
| Keep me nearer, me thy hearer, | |
| Singing over shrubs and vines. | 10 |
| |
| Insect lover of the sun, | |
| Joy of thy dominion! | |
| Sailor of the atmosphere; | |
| Swimmer through the waves of air, | |
| Voyager of light and noon, | 15 |
| Epicurean of June! | |
| Wait, I prithee, till I come | |
| Within earshot of thy hum,— | |
| All without is martyrdom. | |
| |
| When the south-wind, in May days, | 20 |
| With a net of shining haze | |
| Silvers the horizon wall; | |
| And, with softness touching all, | |
| Tints the human countenance | |
| With the color of romance; | 25 |
| And infusing subtle heats | |
| Turns the sod to violets,— | |
| Thou in sunny solitudes | |
| Rover of the underwoods, | |
| The green silence dost displace | 30 |
| With thy mellow breezy bass. | |
| |
| Hot midsummer’s petted crone, | |
| Sweet to me thy drowsy tone | |
| Tells of countless sunny hours, | |
| Long days, and solid banks of flowers; | 35 |
| Of gulfs of sweetness without bound, | |
| In Indian wildernesses found; | |
| Of Syrian peace, immortal leisure, | |
| Firmest cheer, and birdlike pleasure. | |
| |
| Aught unsavory or unclean | 40 |
| Hath my insect never seen; | |
| But violets, and bilberry bells, | |
| Maple sap, and daffodels, | |
| Grass with green flag half-mast high, | |
| Succory to match the sky, | 45 |
| Columbine with horn of honey, | |
| Scented fern, and agrimony, | |
| Clover, catchfly, adder’s-tongue, | |
| And brier-rose, dwelt among: | |
| All beside was unknown waste, | 50 |
| All was picture as he passed. | |
| |
| Wiser far than human seer, | |
| Yellow-breeched philosopher, | |
| Seeing only what is fair, | |
| Sipping only what is sweet, | 55 |
| Thou dost mock at fate and care, | |
| Leave the chaff and take the wheat. | |
| When the fierce northwestern blast | |
| Cools sea and land so far and fast,— | |
| Thou already slumberest deep; | 60 |
| Woe and want thou canst outsleep; | |
| Want and woe, which torture us, | |
| Thy sleep makes ridiculous. | |
| |
