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Arthur Symons - The Wasps
Work rating: Low

The wasps are buzzing, the earth smells, 
I love to hear then! when they buzz 
The merchant; wasps that build their cells; 
Their merchandise miraculous 
They dig for, and those tiny things, 
So voluble in their loveliness, 
Who have for those that hale them, stings, 
Garbed in a green and golden dress, 
Rise from their City on their wings, 
Beat with them bits of earth, compress 
Desire into their daintiness.
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