There is a flower that Bees prefer
And bu*terflies—desire
To gain the Purple Democrat
The Humming Bird—aspire
And Whatsoever Insect pa**
A Honey bear away
Proportioned to his several dearth
And her—capacity
Her face be rounder than the Moon
And ruddier than the Gown
Or Orchis in the Pasture
Or Rhododendron—worn
She doth not wait for June
Before the World be Green
Her sturdy little Countenance
Against the Wind—be seen
Contending with the Gra**
Near Kinsman to Herself
For Privilege of Sod and Sun
Sweet Litigants for Life
And when the Hills be full
And newer fashions blow
Doth not retract a single spice
For pang of jealousy
Her Public—be the Noon
Her Providence—the Sun
Her Progress—by the Bee—proclaimed
In sovereign—Swerveless Tune
The Bravest—of the Host
Surrendering—the last
Nor even of Defeat—aware
What cancelled by the Frost