> Улей
Есть улей у тебя единственный, но чудный;
Есть пчелы звучные... и каждая пчела
Приносит сладкий сок и лепетом крыла
Жужжит над пасекой под сенью изумрудной.
От глаз назойливых под сенью непробудной
Ты прячешь улей свой, ты ласкою тепла
Хранишь сонливый рой в тиши родной угла,
И молча ждешь весны живой и многотрудной.
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Специально для тебя бонус от Эмили Дикинсон:
III. Nature
XV.
The Bee
Like trains of cars on tracks of plush
I hear the level bee:
A jar across the flowers goes,
Their velvet masonry
Withstands until the sweet assault
Their chivalry consumes,
While he, victorious, tilts away
To vanquish other blooms.
His feet are shod with gauze,
His helmet is of gold;
His breast, a single onyx
With chrysoprase, inlaid.
His labor is a chant,
His idleness a tune;
Oh, for a bee's experience
Of clovers and of noon!
Bee! I'm expecting you!
Bee! I'm expecting you!
Was saying Yesterday
To Somebody you know
That you were due --
The Frogs got Home last Week --
Are settled, and at work --
Birds, mostly back --
The Clover warm and thick --
You'll get my Letter by
The seventeenth; Reply
Or better, be with me --
Yours, Fly.
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