The Two Bees
But a few words could William say,
And those few could not speak plain,
Yet thought he was a man one day;
Never saw I boy so vain.
From what could vanity proceed
In such a little lisping lad?
Or was it vanity indeed?
Or was he only very glad?
For he without his maid may go
To the heath with elder boys,
And pluck ripe berries where they grow:
Well may William then rejoice.
Be careful of your little charge;
Elder boys, let him not rove;
The heath is wide, the heath is large,
From your sight he must not move.
But rove he did: they had not been
One short hour the heath upon,
When he was nowhere to be seen;
'Where,' said they, 'is William gone?'
Mind not the elder boys' distress;
Let them run, and let them fly.
Their own neglect and giddiness
They are justly suffering by.
William his little basket filled
With his berries ripe and red;
Then, naughty boy, two bees he killed,
Under foot he stamped them dead.
William had coursed them o'er the heath,
After them his steps did wander;
When he was nearly out of breath,
The last bee his foot was under.
A cruel triumph which did not
Last but for a moment's space,
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poem by Charles Lamb
Added by Poetry Lover
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