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 !