English poem
LOVELACE GROWN OLD
by Theodosia Garrison (1874–1944)
My life has been like a bee that roves Through a scented garden close, And 'tis I who have kept the honey of love, The hoarded sweetness and scent thereof, For all I forget the rose.
Oh, exquisite gardens long forgot That have made my store complete, Though winter fall upon blossom and bee, Yet the kisses I garnered remain with me Forever and ever sweet.