Lizette Woodworth Reese

(January 9, 1856 – December 17, 1935 / Waverly)

Telling The Bees - Poem by Lizette Woodworth Reese

A Colonial Custom

Bathsheba came out to the sun,
Out to our wallèd cherry-trees;
The tears adown her cheek did run,
Bathsheba standing in the sun,
Telling the bees.

My mother had that moment died;
Unknowing, sped I to the trees,
And plucked Bathsheba’s hand aside;
Then caught the name that there she cried
Telling the bees.

Her look I never can forget,
I that held sobbing to her knees;
The cherry-boughs above us met;
I think I see Bathsheba yet
Telling the bees.


Comments about Telling The Bees by Lizette Woodworth Reese

  • Rookie - 45 Points Colleen Courtney (5/19/2014 10:47:00 AM)

    This must be a custom I have not yet heard of. An interesting poem though. (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Saturday, December 17, 2011



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