Thedark cloud raged.
Gone was the morning light.
The big drops darted down:
The storm stood tall on the rose-trees:
and the bees that were getting honey
out of wet roses,
the hiding bees would not come out of the flowers
into the rain.
(Hilda Conkling)
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Based on Topics: Light Poems, Flowers Poems, Morning PoemsBased on Keywords: rose-trees