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<h3 id="id00619" style="margin-top: 3em">THE HOMING BEE</h3>
<p id="id00620" style="margin-top: 2em">You are belted with gold, little brother of mine,<br/>
Yellow gold, like the sun<br/>
That spills in the west, as a chalice of wine<br/>
When feasting is done.<br/></p>
<p id="id00621">You are gossamer-winged, little brother of mine,<br/>
Tissue winged, like the mist<br/>
That broods where the marshes melt into a line<br/>
Of vapour sun-kissed.<br/></p>
<p id="id00622">You are laden with sweets, little brother of mine,<br/>
Flower sweets, like the touch<br/>
Of hands we have longed for, of arms that entwine,<br/>
Of lips that love much.<br/></p>
<p id="id00623">You are better than I, little brother of mine,<br/>
Than I, human-souled,<br/>
For you bring from the blossoms and red summer shine,<br/>
For others, your gold.<br/></p>
<h3 id="id00624" style="margin-top: 3em">THE LOST LAGOON</h3>
<p id="id00625" style="margin-top: 2em">It is dusk on the Lost Lagoon,<br/>
And we two dreaming the dusk away,<br/>
Beneath the drift of a twilight grey,<br/>
Beneath the drowse of an ending day,<br/>
And the curve of a golden moon.<br/></p>
<p id="id00626">It is dark in the Lost Lagoon,<br/>
And gone are the depths of haunting blue,<br/>
The grouping gulls, and the old canoe,<br/>
The singing firs, and the dusk and—you,<br/>
And gone is the golden moon.<br/></p>
<p id="id00627">O! lure of the Lost Lagoon,—<br/>
I dream to-night that my paddle blurs<br/>
The purple shade where the seaweed stirs,<br/>
I hear the call of the singing firs<br/>
In the hush of the golden moon.<br/></p>
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