• Bathsheba came out to the sun,
    Out to our wallëd cherry-trees;
    The tears adown her cheek did run,
    Bathsheba standing in the sun,
    Telling the bees.

    My mother had that moment died;
    Unknowing, sped I to the trees,
    And plucked Bathsheba’s hand aside;
    Then caught the name that there she cried
    Telling the bees.

    Her...