916
His Feet are shod with Gauze—
His Helmet, is of Gold,
His Breast, a Single Onyx
With Chrysophrase, inlaid.
His Labor is a Chant—
His Idleness—a Tune—
Oh, for a Bee's experience
Of Clovers, and of Noon!
Emily Dickinson
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/his-feet-are-shod-with-gauze/
