The Homing Bee

You are belted with gold, little brother of mine,
      Yellow gold, like the sun
That spills in the west, as a chalice of wine
      When feasting is done.

You are gossamer-winged, little brother of mine,
      Tissue winged, like the mist
That broods where the marshes melt into a line
      Of vapour sun-kissed.

You are laden with sweets, little brother of mine,
      Flower sweets, like the touch
Of hands we have longed for, of arms that entwine,
      Of lips that love much.

You are better than I, little brother of mine,
      Than I, human-souled,
For you bring from the blossoms and red summer shine,
      For others, your gold.

From Flint and Feather: The Complete Poems of E. Pauline Johnson (Tekahionwake) (The Musson Book Co., Limited, 1917) by Emily Pauline Johnson. This poem is in the public domain.