| 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. | |