Like trains of cars on tracks of plush <br />I hear the level bee: <br />A jar across the flowers goes, <br />Their velvet masonry <br /> <br />Withstands until the sweet assault <br />Their chivalry consumes, <br />While he, victorious, tilts away <br />To vanquish other blooms. <br /> <br />His feet are shod with gauze, <br />His helmet is of gold; <br />His breast, a single onyx <br />With chrysoprase, inlaid. <br /> <br />His labor is a chant, <br />His idleness a tune; <br />Oh, for a bee's experience <br />Of clovers and of noon!<br /><br />Emily Dickinson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/like-trains-of-cars-on-tracks-of-plush/
