A t ay like a flower upon mine ,
And dre ots like bees
For multitude and t of snesses;
rejoicing, I desired t
Of tler, wo w
Could lure t srees
t I migs and please
My soul so, al
Of a weak mans vain wishes ! hile I spoke,
t I called a flotle-rough
ts, called bees, stung me to festering:
Oertain (cried Reason as she woke)
Your best and gladdest ts but long enough,
And to sting !