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Here can no influence boast; but here true TASTE
To a BEE.
Thou wert out betimes, thou busy busy Bee!
Before the Cow from her resting place
On the meadow with dew so gray,
I saw thee, thou busy busy Bee.
Thou wert alive, thou busy busy Bee!
When the crowd in their sleep were dead.
Thouwert abroad in the freshest hour,
When the sweetest odour comes from the flower; Man will not learn to leave his lifeless bed,
And be wise and copy thee, thou busy busy Bee.
Thou wert working late, thou busy busy Bee!
I heard thee last as I saw thee first,
When the Primrose-tree blossom was ready to burst, In the coolness of the evening hour,
I heard thee, thou busy busy Bee.
Thou art a miser, thou busy busy Bee!
Late and early at employ ;
Still on thy golden stores intent,
Thy youth in heaping and hoarding is spent What thy age will never enjoy ;
I will not copy thee, thou miserly Bee.
Thou art a fool, thou busy busy Bee,
Thy master waits till thy work is done,
He will murder thee, thou poor little Bee!
To a FRIEND
EXPRESSING A WISH TO TRAVEL.
Dost thou, then, listening to the traveller's tale
And visit other lands, that thou mayest view
To see the sun-beam shine on scenes so fair,
But wouldst thou not at night, confined within Thy foul and comfortless and lonely inn, Remember with a sigh the joys of home?
T. Mr. PACKWOOD.
Come Muse and seize the trump of fame To sing great PACKWOOD's growing name, No king deserves it louder.
Then swell your deep sonorous voice,
To him who mortals bids rejoice;
And seek his strap and powder!.
Oh! had'st thou flourish'd in a age,.
Like modern Psalmanazor,
Their hairy honours wore at length,