I saw the wild honey-bee kissing a rose,
A wee one, that grows
Down low on the bush, where her sisters above
Cannot see all that's done
As the moments roll on,
Nor hear all the whispers and murmurs of love.
They flaunt out their beautiful leaves in the sun,
And they flirt, every one,
With the wild bees who pass, and the gay butterflies.
And that wee thing in pink---
Why, they never once think
That she's won a lover right under their eyes.
It reminded me, Kate, of a time---you know when!
You were so petite then,
Your dresses were short, and your feet were so small.
Your sisters, Maud-Belle
They both set their caps for me, after that ball.
How the blue eyes and black eyes smiled up in my face!
'Twas a neck-and-neck race,
Till that day when you opened the door in the hall,
And looked up and looked down,
With your sweet eyes of brown,
And you seemed so tiny, and I felt so tall.
Your sisters had sent you to keep me, my dear,
Till they should appear.
Then you were dismissed like a child in disgrace.
How meekly you went!
But your brown eyes, they sent
A thrill to my heart, and a flush to my face.
We always were meeting some way after that.
You hung up my hat,
And got it again when I finished my call.
Sixteen, and so sweet!
Oh, those cute little feet!
Shall I ever forget how they tripped down the hall?
Shall I ever forget the first kiss by the door,
Or the vows murmured o'er,
Or the rage and surprise of Maud-Bell? Well-a-day,
How swiftly time flows!
And who would suppose
That a bee could have carried me so far away?
Poetical works of Ella Wheeler Wilcox. by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Edinburgh : W. P. Nimmo, Hay, & Mitchell, 1917.
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