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Home  »  Women Poets of the Nineteenth Century  »  Louisa S. Guggenberger (1845–1895)

Alfred H. Miles, ed. Women Poets of the Nineteenth Century. 1907.

By Poems, Lyrics, and Sonnets (1882). I. Bees in Clover. A Song

Louisa S. Guggenberger (1845–1895)

A Song

UP the dewy slopes of morning

Follow me;

Every smoky spy-glass scorning,

Look and see, look and see

How the simple sun is rising,

Not approving nor despising

You and me.

Hear not those who bid you wait

Till they find the sun’s birth-date,

Preaching children, savage sages,

To their mouldy, blood-stuck pages

And the quarrelling of ages,

Leave them all; and come and see

Just the little honied clover,

As the winging music-bees

Come in busy twos and threes

Humming over!

All without a theory

Quite successfully, you see;

Little priests that wed the flowers,

Little preachers in their way,

Through the sunny working day

With their quite unconscious powers

How they say their simple say.

What? a church-bell in the valley?

What? a wife-shriek in the alley?

Tune the bell a little better,

Help the woman bear her fetter.

All in time! all in time!

If you will but take your fill

Of the dawn-light on the hill,

And behold the dew-gems glisten,—

If you turn your soul to listen

To the bees among the thyme.

There may chance a notion to you

To encourage and renew you,

For the doing and the speaking,

Ere the jarring of the chime,

And the mad despair of shrieking

Call you downward to the mending

Of a folly, and the ending

Of a crime.

On the dewy hill at morning

Do you ask?—do you ask?

How to tune the bells that jangle?

How to still the hearts that wrangle?—

For a task?

When the bell shall suit the ears

Of the strong man’s hopes and fears,

As the bee-wing suits the clover

And the clover suits the bee,

Then the din shall all be over,

And the woman shall be free,

And the bell ring melody,

Do you see?—do you see?

There are bees upon the hill,

And the sun is climbing still,

To his noon;

Shall it not be pretty soon

That the wife she shall be well,

And the jarring of the bell

Falls in tune?