'Tis I, Your Bee
‘Tis I, your Bee, whom graciously implores your thanks,
In which your sweet vision resides within my memory.
A pure star twinkling bright as any of those fiery lamps,
And with delicate tongue I write to you, my muse Emily,
For my wearied creative air, your gentle breath revamps.
‘Twas in heaven where I believed sole divinity dwelt,
Until my eyes welcomed waves lap upon their shore;
Never have my veins flowed as swift nor my heart felt,
A blazing white beauty my caress does wish to