There is a flower that Bees prefer-
And Butterflies-desire-
To gain the Purple Democrat
The Humming Bird-aspire-

And Whatsoever Insect pass-
A Honey bear away
Proportioned to his several dearth
And her-capacity-

Her face be rounder than the Moon
And ruddier than the Gown
Or Orchis in the Pasture-
Or Rhododendron-worn-

She doth not wait for June-
Before the World be Green-
Her sturdy little Countenance
Against the Wind-be seen-

Contending with the Grass-
Near Kinsman to Herself-
For Privilege of Sod and Sun-
Sweet Litigants for Life-

And when the Hills be full-
And newer fashions blow-
Doth not retract a single spice
For pang of jealousy-

Her Public-be the Noon-
Her Providence-the Sun-
Her Progress-by the Bee-proclaimed-
In sovereign-Swerveless Tune-

The Bravest-of the Host-
Surrendering-the last-
Nor even of Defeat-aware-
What cancelled by the Frost-