by Julia Griffin
“Doctors discover four live bees feeding on tears inside woman’s eye”
Peerless insects! How have ye
Merited so blest to be?
You have broach’d those starry spheres
Whence descend my lady’s tears:
There you lodge and proudly feed
On this world’s divinest mead.
O had she once rubb’d that lid!
You had died where you were hid;
Happy your escape: though I
Gladly there would choose to die.