IN THE GARDEN
A SOFT and flowered vision
Came on me as a breeze
In summer, and I saw
The souls of men like bees.
Up stairs of orchard foam
With balustrade of may,
Stagger, a mazy cluster,
Drunk with the scented day.
Then strong from newer honey,
With brighter pollen shod,
The little souls went buzzing
Up to the Hives of God.
SHERARD VINES
(NEW COLLEGE)