I.AT OF THE ROSE. 255 
The little flies did crawl 
Along the southern wall, 
Faintly shifting, faintly shifting 
Wings scarce strong enow for lifting. 
The nightingale did please 
To loiter beyond seas. 
Guess him in the happy islands. 
Hearing music from the silence. 
The lark too high or low. 
Did haply miss her so— 
With his crest down in the gorses. 
And his song in the star-courses ! 
Only the bee, forsooth. 
Came in the place of both— 
Doing honour, doing honour. 
To the honey-dews upon her. 
The skies look’d coldly down 
As on a royal crown ; 
Then, drop by drop, at leisure, 
Began to rain for pleasure. 
