Classic Poem

Come, Phyllis, to the countryside
As Strephon and his Chloe hied
Let you and I
Now quickly hie;
And there, amid the clover gay,
And the wild-flowers on the way,
Beneath the green of arching trees,
To the rare music of the breeze,
Mixed with the songs of happy birds,
And the far crooning of the herds,
The sunbeams in their golden rout
All playing joyously about,
With all the scene
A-glint with sparkle and with sheen,
I'll show you how the true Bee sips
His honey from the Rose's lips,
And with their sweets
His bliss completes.
You be the Rose, and I, you see,—
Well, Phyllis dear, I'll be the Bee!