Close to the sun in lonely lands,
Ring’d with the azure world, he stands.
The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;
He watches from his mountain walls,
And like a thunderbolt he falls.
—Alfred, Lord Tennyson.
THE BEE AND THE FLOWER.
The bee buzz’d up in the heat.
“I am faint for your honey, my sweet.”
The flower said, “Take it, my dear;