University of Virginia Library

THE SOUND OF BEES.

Music is on the air! Delightful sounds
Of birds and humming-bees! From Winter's bounds
The earth hath burst, and claps her hands with glee,
And hangs triumphal banners on each tree,
And shouts amain her songs of victory proud,
And flings back from her form the pallid shroud,
And lights her brow with garlands of bright flowers,
And welcomes wildly back the Spring's sweet hours.
I dwell in silence and in solitude,
Alternate joy and sadness stamp my mood;
Now thoughts of pleasure lead to thoughts of pain,
And these melt suddenly to joy again!
The bees sing by me in the golden air;
They leave no trace, no print, no memory there;
But, Oh! a thousand on my heart! for fast
That sound brings rushing visions of the past!
That long shall dwell there in their wond'rous might,
And leave behind a loveliness and light.
How doth a train of starry sympathies
Within my Soul uncalled, uncourted rise!
I dream myself at once full far away
A thousand leagues—(for swift as lightning's ray,
And swifter yet is thought)—between me lie
And this fair Land of loveliest witchery,
A lovelier in my sight to me is shown,
A lovelier and a dearer far—mine own.
A thousand sympathies and memories rise,
I dream myself beneath my native skies,
My own sweet native skies, too far away,
And feel the quiet of its summer's day
Gladdening my feelings where no burning glare
Consumes as in this sultry, blinding air;
But all is golden beauty, golden rest,
And soft tranquillity in young smiles dress'd,
And balmy freshness and delight serene,
Which springs for ever from the enchanted scene.
Those bees, those murmuring bees, their sounding wings
Transporteth me at once from alien things
To things familiar, precious things and dear—
Oh! sweet is that slight murmur to mine ear!
That tender soft alarum, faint and low;
How well its slumberous melody I know!
That drowsy, dreaming tocsin of delight—
It hath a wondrous and a magic might!
A thousand thousand times in the olden days,
Lost in immingling thoughts' bewildered maze!
Have I sat listening to that lulling sound,
Breathing the rapture of a peace profound;
Oh! murmur on—and let my thoughts still stray
To those loved days—that loved Land far away.
E'en like yourselves they stray from flower to flower—
With cunning skill and with mysterious power,
Gathering the juices 'midst their leaves enshrined—
Hiving the heav'n-sweet honey in the mind.
Oh! deeply deeply—exquisitely dear
Is that soft Summer-murmur to mine ear.