THE BEE-ORCHIS. 
R. SNOW, ESQ. 
See, Delia, see, this image bright ; 
Why starts my fair one at the sight I 
It mounts not on obtrusive wing, 
Nor threats thy breast with angry sting : 
Admire, as close the insect lies. 
Its thin-wrought plume, and honey’d thighs 
Whilst on this flow’rets velvet breast, 
It seems as though ’twere lull’d to rest, 
Nor might its fairy wings unfold. 
Enchain’d in aromatic gold. 
Think not to set the captive free— 
’Tis but the picture of a bee. 
Yet wonder not that Nature’s power 
Should paint an insect in a flower; 
And stoop to means that bear in part 
Resemblance to imperfect art— 
Nature, who could that form inspire 
With strength and swiftness, life and fire. 
