Love was the wine, and Jealousy the lees,
Bitter of brine, and syrup of the bees.
WITH A FRONTISPIECE METHUEN & CO. LTD. 36 ESSEX STREET, W.C. LONDON
TO
MRS. THEODORE BECK
And I rove on the breeze with the world of bees
like the shadow of a bee:
For a dead moonflower which the worms devour
is the tomb of the soul of me.
O the hum of the bees in the mango trees
it murmurs taboo! taboo!
Should a dead moonflower which the worms devour
smell sweet as the mangoes do?
What! shall I deem my flower a dream
when I do find, each morn,
Wet honey sips left on my lips,
and in my heart, a thorn?
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