Oh, not the honey, nor the bee!


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    OH, not the honey, nor the bee ! 
    Yet who can drain the flowers 
    As I ? Less mad, Persephone 
    Spoiled the Sicilian bowers 
    Than I for scent and splendour rove 
    The rosy oleander grove, 
    Or lost in myrtle nook unveil 
    Thoughts that make Aphrodite pale. 

    Honey nor bee ! the tingling quest 
    Must that too be denied ? 
    Deep in thy bosom I would rest, 
    O golden blossom wide ! 
    O poppy-wreath, O violet-crown, 
    I fling your fiery circlets down ; 
    The joys o'er which bees murmur deep 
    Your Sappho's senses may not steep.

    Honey ! clear, soothing, nectarous, sweet, 
    On which my heart would feed, 
    Give me, O Love, the golden meat, 
    And stay my life's long greed— 
    The food in which the gods delight 
    That glistens tempting in my sight! 
    Phaon, thy lips withhold from me
    The bliss of honey and of bee.