face;
Eagerly he followed, while she fled before him,
over mead and mountain,
On through field and forest, in a breathless
race.
But the nymph, in flying, trod upon a serpent;
like a dream she vanished;
Pluto's chariot bore her down among the dead;
Lonely Aristaeus, sadly home returning, found his
garden empty,
All the hives deserted, all the music fled.
Mournfully bewailing,--"ah, my honey-makers,
where have you departed?"--
Far and wide he sought them, over sea and shore;
Foolish is the tale that says he ever found them,
brought them home in triumph,--
Joys that once escape us fly for evermore.
Yet I dream that somewhere, clad in downy
whiteness, dwell the honey-makers,
In aerial gardens that no mortal sees:
And at times returning, lo, they flutter round us,
gathering mystic harvest,--
So I weave the legend of the long-lost bees.
II
THE SWARMING OF THE BEES
I
Who can tell the hiding of the white bees'
nest?
Who can trace the guiding of their swift home
flight?
Far would be his riding on a life-long quest:
Surely ere it ended would his beard grow
white.
Never in the coming of the rose-red Spring,
Never in the passing of the wine-red Fall,
May you hear the humming of the white bee's
wing
Murmur o'er the meadow, ere the night bells
call.
Wait till winter hardens in the cold grey sky,
Wait till leaves are fallen and the brooks all
freeze,
Then above the gardens where the dead flowers
lie,
Swarm the merry millions of the wild white
bees.
II
Out of the high-built airy hive,
Deep in the clouds that veil the sun,
Look how the first of the swarm arrive;
Timidly venturing, one by one,
Down through the tranquil air,
Wavering here and there,
Large, and lazy in flight,--
Caught by a lift of the breeze,
Tangled among the naked trees,--
Dropping then, without a sound,
Feather-white, feather-light,
To their rest on the ground.
III
Thus the swarming is begun.
Count the leaders, every one
Perfect as a perfect star
Till the slow descent is done.
Look beyond them, see how far
Down the vistas dim and grey,
Multitudes are on the way.
Now a sudden brightness
Dawns within the sombre day,
Over fields of whiteness;
And the sky is swiftly aliv
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