Telling The Bees
Lizette Woodworth Reese
Bathsheba came out to the sun, Out to our wallëd cherry-trees; The tears adown her cheek did run, Bathsheba standing in the sun, Telling the bees. My mother had that moment died; Unknowing, sped I to the trees, And plucked Bathsheba’s hand aside; Then caught the name that there she cried Telling the bees. Her look I never can forget, I that held sobbing to her knees; The cherry-boughs above us met; I think I see Bathsheba yet Telling the bees.
Next 10 Poems
- Lizette Woodworth Reese : That Day You Came
- Lizette Woodworth Reese : The Deserted House
- Lizette Woodworth Reese : Thomas A Kempis
- Lizette Woodworth Reese : To A Town Poet
- Lizette Woodworth Reese : Trust
- Lizette Woodworth Reese : Wise
- Lizette Woodworth Reese : Writ In A Book Of Welsh Verse
- Lola Ridge : A Memory
- Lola Ridge : A Toast
- Lola Ridge : A Worn Rose
Previous 10 Poems
- Lizette Woodworth Reese : Tears
- Lizette Woodworth Reese : Spicewood
- Lizette Woodworth Reese : Reserve
- Lizette Woodworth Reese : Oh, Gray And Tender Is The Rain
- Lizette Woodworth Reese : Lydia Is Gone This Many A Year
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- Lizette Woodworth Reese : In Time Of Grief
- Lizette Woodworth Reese : Immortality
