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<h1>THE BEE.</h1>
<br/>
Like trains of cars on tracks of plush<br/>
I hear the level bee:<br/>
A jar across the flowers goes,<br/>
Their velvet masonry<br/>
<br/>
Withstands until the sweet assault<br/>
Their chivalry consumes,<br/>
While he, victorious, tilts away<br/>
To vanquish other blooms.<br/>
<br/>
His feet are shod with gauze,<br/>
His helmet is of gold;<br/>
His breast, a single onyx<br/>
With chrysoprase, inlaid.<br/>
<br/>
His labor is a chant,<br/>
His idleness a tune;<br/>
Oh, for a bee's experience<br/>
Of clovers and of noon!<br/>
<br/>
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