Explore "The Bee" by Emily Dickinson on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Like trains of cars on tracks of plush / I hear the level bee: / A jar across the flowers goes, / Their velvet masonry
Withstands until the sweet assault / Their chivalry consumes, / While he, victorious, tilts away / To vanquish other blooms.
His feet are shod with gauze, / His helmet is of gold; / His breast, a single onyx / With chrysoprase, inlaid.
His labor is a chant, / His idleness a tune; / Oh, for a bee's experience / Of clovers and of noon!