YOU SEEMED from afar titanic in your mysterious majesty of terror. With palpitating heart I stood before your presence. Your knitted brows boded ill and sudden came down the blow with a growl and a crash. My bones cracked, with bowed head I waited for the final fury to come. It came. And I wondered, could this be all of the menace? With your weapon held high in suspense you looked mightily big. To strike me you came down to where I crouched low on the ground. You suddenly became small and I stood up. From thence there was only pain for me but no fear. Great you are as death itself, but your victim is greater than death.
WHAT IS IT THAT drives these bees from their home; these followers of unseen trails? What cry is this in their eager wings? How can they hear the music that sleeps in the flower soul? How can they find their way to the chamber where the honey lies shy and silent?