The Butterfly and the Bee

Methought I heard a butterfly
Say to a labouring bee:
'Thou hast no colours of the sky
On painted wings like me.'

'Poor child of vanity! those dyes,
And colours bright and rare,'
With mild reproof, the bee replies,
'Are all beneath my care.

'Content I toil from morn to eve,
And scorning idleness,
To tribes of gaudy sloth I leave
The vanity of dress.'

by William Lisle Bowles

Comments (2)

I think the line: The wind sounds like a silver wire is one of the most beautiful lines in poetry I have ever read. It garners an image of a high singular singing note that goes on forever; it lifts my heart with it. Vernon
wow its a really fantastic poem could u please visit me n read my poems