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Literary Gazette, 21st October, 1820, Page 685
Untitled
The bee, when varying flowers are nigh,
On many a sweet will careless dwell;
Just sips their dew, and then will fly
Again to its own fragrant cell:—
Thus tho’ my heart, by fancy led,
A wanderer for a while may be,
Yet soon returning whence it fled,
It comes more fondly back to thee.
L.
