The Rhyme of the Ancient Beekeeper…

[Hemlock]

☼

I fear thee, ancient Beekeeper!

I fear thy skinny hand!

And thou art long, and lank, and brown,

 As is the honey combed nest.

  I fear thee and thy glittering eye,Your pollen laden sacks!’

- “Fear not, fear not, thou Wedding-Guest!

This body dropped not down.

Alone, alone, all, all alone,

 Alone High in a bee

tree swaying in the wind!

 And never a saint took pity on My soul in again.

  The many bees, so beautiful! And all dead they would lie;

 And a thousand thousand slimy things Lived on; and so did I

 Seven days, seven nights, I saw that curse, And yet I could not die.

The moving moon went up the sky,

And no where did abide: Softly she was going up,

 And a star or two beside -

Like April hoar-frost spread;

What would become of these fair ladies

Did not I intervene?

So with rope and blade I did climb

to their lofty perch on high.

I hacked and cut and struggled to save.

And with a last deafening snap did free

 The selfsame moment I could pray;

 And from my neck so free The Bees fell off, and floated to the hive bellow the tree.



There was a lot of fun in the backyard on Monday