Ina Donna Coolbrith

Fruitionless

AH! little flower, upspringing, azure-eyed,
  The meadow-brook beside,
    Dropping delicious balms
    Into the tender palms
Of lover-winds, that woo with light caress,        
  In still contentedness,
Living and blooming thy brief summer-day:—
    So, wiser far than I,
    That only dream and sigh,
And, sighing, dream my listless life away.        

Ah! sweetheart birds, a-building your wee house
  In the broad-leavëd boughs,
    Pausing with merry trill
    To praise each other’s skill,
And nod your pretty heads with pretty pride;        
  Serenely satisfied
To trill and twitter love’s sweet roundelay:—
    So, happier than I,
    That, lonely, dream and sigh,
And, sighing, dream my lonely life away.        

Brown-bodied bees, that scent with nostrils fine
  The odorous blossom-wine,
    Sipping, with heads half thrust
    Into the pollen dust
Of rose and hyacinth and daffodil,        
  To hive, in amber cell,
A honey feasting for the winter-day:—
    So, better far than I,
    Self-wrapt, that dream and sigh,
And, sighing, dream my useless life away.