 | When life is young |  |
8
THE BEE-CHARMER
A frisky little faun of old
Once came to charm the bees—
A frisky little faun and bold,
With very funny knees:
You'll read in old mythology
Of just such folk as these,
Who haunted dusky woodlands
And sported 'neath the trees.
Once came to charm the bees—
A frisky little faun and bold,
With very funny knees:
You'll read in old mythology
Of just such folk as these,
Who haunted dusky woodlands
And sported 'neath the trees.
Well, there he sat and waited
And played upon his pipe,
Till all the air grew fated
And the hour was warm and ripe,—
When, through the woodland glooming
Out to the meadow clear,
A few great bees came booming,
And hovered grandly near.
And played upon his pipe,
Till all the air grew fated
And the hour was warm and ripe,—
9
Out to the meadow clear,
A few great bees came booming,
And hovered grandly near.
Then others, all a-listening,
Came, one by one, intent,
Their gauzy wings a-glistening,
Their velvet bodies bent.
Filled was the meadow sunny
With music-laden bees,
Forgetful of their honey
Stored in the gnarled old trees;
Heedless of sweets that waited
In myriad blossoms bright,
They crowded, dumb and sated
And heavy with delight;
When, presto!—with quick laughter
Gone was the piping faun!
And never came he after,
By noon or night or dawn.
Came, one by one, intent,
Their gauzy wings a-glistening,
Their velvet bodies bent.
Filled was the meadow sunny
With music-laden bees,
Forgetful of their honey
Stored in the gnarled old trees;
Heedless of sweets that waited
In myriad blossoms bright,
They crowded, dumb and sated
And heavy with delight;
When, presto!—with quick laughter
Gone was the piping faun!
And never came he after,
By noon or night or dawn.
Never the bees recovered;
The spell was on them still,—
Where'er they flew or hovered
They knew not their own will;
The wondrous music filled them,
As dazed they sought the bloom;
The cadences that thrilled them
Had dealt them mystic doom.
And people called them lazy—
Knowing their wondrous skill—
While others thought them crazy,
And strove to do them ill;
Their velvet coats a-fuzzing
They darted, bounded, flew,
And filled the air with buzzing
And riotous ado.
The spell was on them still,—
Where'er they flew or hovered
They knew not their own will;
The wondrous music filled them,
As dazed they sought the bloom;
The cadences that thrilled them
Had dealt them mystic doom.
10
Knowing their wondrous skill—
While others thought them crazy,
And strove to do them ill;
Their velvet coats a-fuzzing
They darted, bounded, flew,
And filled the air with buzzing
And riotous ado.
Now, when in summer season
We hear their noise and stir,
Full well we know the reason
Of buzz and boom and whir—
As, browsing on the clover
Or darting at the flower,
They hum it o'er and over,
That charm of elfin power.
Dire, with a purpose musical
Jarring the sultry noon,
They make their sounds confusical,
And try to catch the tune.
It baffles them, it rouses them,
It wearies them and drowses them,
It puzzles them and saddens them,
It worries them and maddens them;—
Ah, wicked faun, with funny knees,
To bring such trouble on the bees!
We hear their noise and stir,
Full well we know the reason
Of buzz and boom and whir—
As, browsing on the clover
Or darting at the flower,
They hum it o'er and over,
That charm of elfin power.
Dire, with a purpose musical
Jarring the sultry noon,
They make their sounds confusical,
And try to catch the tune.
It baffles them, it rouses them,
It wearies them and drowses them,
It puzzles them and saddens them,
It worries them and maddens them;—
Ah, wicked faun, with funny knees,
To bring such trouble on the bees!
| When life is young | |