The Swarthy bee is a buccaneer,
A burly velveted rover,
Who loves the booming wind in his ear
As he sails the seas of clover.
A waif of the goblin pirate crew,
With not a soul to deplore him,
He steers for the open verge of blue
With the filmy world before him.
His flimsy sails abroad on the wind
Are shivered with...
On Seeing One on a Lady’s Bonnet at Church
HA! whare ye gaun, ye crawlin’ ferlie?
Your impudence protects you sairly:
I canna say but ye strunt rarely
Owre gauze an’ lace;
Though, faith! I fear ye dine but sparely
On sic a place.
Ye ugly, creepin’, blastit wonner,
Detested, shunned by saunt an’ sinner,
...
On Turning Her up in Her Nest with the Plough, November, 1785
WEE, sleekit, cowerin’, timorous beastie,
O, what a panic ’s in thy breastie!
Thou needna start awa sae hasty,
Wi’ bickering brattle!
I wad be laith to rin an’ chase thee,
Wi’ murdering pattle!
I ’m truly sorry man’s dominion
Has broken nature’s...
The Frugal snail, with forecast of repose,
Carries his house with him where’er he goes;
Peeps out,—and if there comes a shower of rain,
Retreats to his small domicile again.
Touch but a tip of him, a horn,—’t is well,—
He curls up in his sanctuary shell.
He ’s his own landlord, his own tenant; stay
Long as he will, he dreads no Quarter...
YE little snails,
With slippery tails,
Who noiselessly travel
Along this gravel,
By a silvery path of slime unsightly,
I learn that you visit my pea-rows nightly.
Felonious your visit, I guess!
And I give you this warning,
That, every morning,
I ’ll strictly examine the pods;...
Tiger! Tiger! burning bright,
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies
Burned the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?
And what shoulder, and what art,
Could twist the sinews of thine heart?...
Anonymous translation from the German
THE LION is the desert’s king; through his domain so wide
Right swiftly and right royally this night he means to ride.
By the sedgy brink, where the wild herds drink, close couches the grim chief;
The trembling sycamore above whispers with every leaf.
At evening, on the Table Mount, when ye can see no more
...
From the German by John Eliot Bowen
From “Songs of Toil”
HOW sweet the manger smells! The cows all listen
With outstretched necks, and with impatient lowing;
They greet the clover, their content now showing—
And how they lick their noses till they glisten!
The velvet-coated beauties do not languish
Beneath the morning’s golden light...
From the Italian by Frank Sewall
From the “Poesie”
I LOVE thee, pious ox; a gentle feeling
Of vigor and of peace thou giv’st my heart.
How solemn, like a monument, thou art!
Over wide fertile fields thy calm gaze stealing,
Unto the yoke with grave contentment kneeling,
To man’s quick work thou dost thy strength impart.
He...
Shepherds all, and maidens fair,
Fold your flocks up; for the air
’Gins to thicken, and the sun
Already his great course hath run.
See the dew-drops, how they kiss
Every little flower that is;
Hanging on their velvet heads,
Like a string of crystal beads.
See the heavy clouds low falling
And bright Hesperus down calling...
