Classic Poem

IDYLL XIX

Love S TEALING H ONEY

O NCE thievish Love the honeyed hives would rob,
When a bee stung him: soon he felt a throb
Through all his finger tips, and, wild with pain,
Blew on his hands and stamped and jumped in vain.
To Aphrodite then he told his woe:
" How can a thing so tiny hurt one so?"
She smiled and said: " Why, thou'rt a tiny thing,
As is the bee; yet sorely thou canst sting"