A wingëd rocket, curving through
An amethyst trajectory,
Blew up the magazines of dew
Within the fortress of the bee.
Some say the tulip mortar sent
The missile forth; I do not know;
I scarcely saw which way it went,
Its whisk of flame surprised me so.
I heard the sudden hum and boom,
And saw the arc of purple light
Across the garden's rosy gloom;
Then something glorious blurred my sight!
The bees forgot to sound alarm,
And did not pause their gates to lock;
A topaz terror took by storm
The tower of the hollyhock.
Above the rose a halo hung,
As if a bomb had been a gem,
And round the dahlia's head was swung
A blade that looked a diadem.
What more befell I cannot say;
By ruby glint and emerald gleam
My sense was dazed; the garden lay
Around me like an opal dream!