Wednesday, July 29, 2020

Bees, by an enemy of Joyce Kilmer

Bees


BY AN ENEMY OF  JOYCE KILMER
I think that I shall never see
A bug lovely as a bee.

A bee whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the flower's  sweet flowing breast;

A bee that looks at God all day,
And lifts his hairy arms to pray;

A bee that may in Summer wear
A nest of pollen in her hair;

Upon whose bosom nectar has lain;
While  busily buzzing my orange grove terrain

Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a bee.
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