BURLESQUE SONNET.

Sweet Insect! that on two small wings doth fly,

And, flying, carry on those wings yourself;

Methinks I see you, looking from your eye,

As tho’ you thought the world a wicked elf.

Offspring of summer! brimstone is thy foe;

And when it kills ye, soon you lose your breath:

They rob your honey; but do n't let you go,

Thou harmless victim of ambitious death!

How sweet is honey! coming from the Bee;

Sweeter than sugar, in the lump or not:

And, as we get this honey all from thee,

Child of the hive! thou shalt not be forgot.

So when I catch, I'll take thee home with me,

And thou shall be my friend, oh! Bee! Bee! Bee!