 | Collected poems by Vachel Lindsay |  |
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THE HUMBLE BUMBLE BEE.
THE WEATHER-MAN HAS PROMISED SNOW AND SLEET.
NOW BUMBLE-BEE. WHERE WILL YOU WARM YOUR FEET?
NOW BUMBLE-BEE. WHERE WILL YOU WARM YOUR FEET?
“BESIDE THE SANGAMON A HOLLOW OAK
HAS BEEN MY WINTER WIGWAM; 'TIS THE CLOAK
THAT SHIELDS THE INDIAN FAIRIES AND THEIR KING:
THEY SLEEP ON MOUSE-HIDES IN A RAINBOW RING
OF BEES IN WAR-PAINT. CROUCHED IN THICK ARRAY.
WHO SCARE THE CUT-WORMS AND THE ANTS AWAY.
I LEAD THOSE BRAVES COMMANDING THEM TO KNEEL
AND BUZZ, AS ON THEIR WINGS I PUT MY HEEL.
IN WINTER, FAIRYLAND BELONGS TO ME.
IN SUMMER I'M A HUMBLE BUMBLE-BEE.
HAS BEEN MY WINTER WIGWAM; 'TIS THE CLOAK
THAT SHIELDS THE INDIAN FAIRIES AND THEIR KING:
THEY SLEEP ON MOUSE-HIDES IN A RAINBOW RING
OF BEES IN WAR-PAINT. CROUCHED IN THICK ARRAY.
WHO SCARE THE CUT-WORMS AND THE ANTS AWAY.
I LEAD THOSE BRAVES COMMANDING THEM TO KNEEL
AND BUZZ, AS ON THEIR WINGS I PUT MY HEEL.
IN WINTER, FAIRYLAND BELONGS TO ME.
IN SUMMER I'M A HUMBLE BUMBLE-BEE.
| Collected poems by Vachel Lindsay | |