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.