| LOVE has crept out of her sealéd heart |   | 
|   As a field-bee, black and amber, |   | 
|   Breaks from the winter-cell, to clamber |   | 
| Up the warm grass where the sunbeams start. |   | 
|    | 
| Mischief has come in her dawning eyes, |          5 | 
|   And a glint of coloured iris brings |   | 
|   Such as lies along the folded wings |   | 
| Of the bee before he flies. |   | 
|    | 
| Who, with a ruffling, careful breath, |   | 
|   Has opened the wings of the wild young sprite? |   10 | 
|   Has fluttered her spirit to stumbling flight |   | 
| In her eyes, as a young bee stumbleth? |   | 
|    | 
| Love makes the burden of her voice. |   | 
|   The hum of his heavy, staggering wings |   | 
|   Sets quivering with wisdom the common things |   15 | 
| That she says, and her words rejoice. |   |