POETRY.

I.

SMELL the air Everywhere! What's the change? Violet-range, Primrose-track-

May's back !

Sun sets, Petals close, Honeybees swollen. Home gets Bumble-nose With nectar and pollen From pistil and stamen, Half alive She seeks the hive, Buzzing her Amen.

Slippery chalk On the downs Hides away Dainty gowns, Primrose-yellows, Bee-browns, Violet.

Hail fellows . . . Well met!

IV.

Down, down, Dirty drone; April, 1919. THE BEE SINGS. Out of the hive! Fat, blown, Overgrown, No one to wive. Queen's wed, Drones are dead. . . .

Now we can thrive!

Clover near the sedge grows, Wocdbine in the hedgerows

With the eglantine. Poppy, Pansy, marigold, Blossoms rich and manifold . .

All, all, all are mine!

Safely home, home at last, All the travel done; All the weary hours are passed, All the daylight's gone.

Ah, the honey a desire,

Hearth and home and fire.

In the hive of our delight Eager music through the night; Vibrant love when all is still, Cold, and dark upon the hill Where the blossoms sleep that fed The golden glory of our bed, The Queen, the Queen of Honeycomb Reigning o'er her legions vast. . . .

Safely home.

Home at last!

RICHARD CHURCH.