And thus to grow as fine and clear—

The spirit's ear.

ODE TO A BEE

ODE TO A BEE

[Pg 30]

[Pg 31]

TO DEATH

TO DEATH

Pale hooded sister of sweet sleep!

That like a patient holy nun,

Upon a battle steep,

Hath watched from sun to sun

Each laboring breath,

That welcomes thee, sweet Death.

Whilst thou with cooling balm

Do quiet lips, where lonely anguish cries,

And draw cool shades for wearied eyes,

And layeth speechless calm

Upon each fevered brow,

With strokings of thy coolly palm.

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