
You are with your intensive giving
And childish ways so dear to see
Mysterious flower joyfully gathering
Honey and sweetness extracting
All the strength there is in me
You are with your irregular flight
An insect of much constructing
Active womanhood daydreams pursuing
Working for the world and might,
But with a deadly sting
As the sunflower turns clockwise
In search of higher nourishment
The mirror of vanity and beauty contemplating
Conceit and appraisal for the eyes
That blindly would not guess the punishment
And yet returning to its hive
With the nectar well secure
On speedy undecided landing
Neither to give or to take life
Just to appear immature
As invariably does the flower
Before it fructifies.
The sense of its existence losing
As the queen of social power
Friend and lover crucifies