THE HONEY ROBBERS

There were two Fairies, Gimmul and Mel,

Loved Earth Man's honey passing well;

Oft at the hives of his tame bees

They would their sugary thirst appease.

 

When even began to darken to night,

They would hie along in the fading light.

With elf-locked hair and scarlet lips,

And small stone knives to slit the skeps,

So softly not a bee inside

Should hear the woven straw divide

And then with sly and greedy thumbs

Would rifle the sweet honeycombs.

And drowsily drone to drone would say,

'A cold, cold wind blows in this way';

And the great Queen would turn her head

From face to face, astonished,

And, though her maids with comb and brush

Would comb and soothe and whisper, 'Hush!'

About the hive would shrilly go

A keening--keening, to and fro;

At which those robbers 'neath the trees

Would taunt and mock the honey-bees,

And through their sticky teeth would buzz

Just as an angry hornet does.

And when this Gimmul and this Mel

Had munched and sucked and swilled their fill,

Or ever Man's first cock should grow

Back to their Faerie Mounds they'd go.

Edging across the twilight air,

Thieves of a guise remotely fair.

--Walter de la Mare