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Matriculation
Virginal creatures that climb up the stair
When bells have rung a change of air:
Latin to Greek, or by degrees to French,
Go past me and I blench.
Who are these nice young ladies that betray
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Their youth in such seductive lengths of silk
Unto uneasy youths that slink away
For all their bulk?
Spring holds the secret, for upon the blooms
(The candelabra of the year's perfumes)
Are slowly thrust the yellow hands of pollen
Whereon furred bees are rolled. And thence the air
Is horribly stung to madness; in a swollen
Interval between his abdomen and his pair
Of bright gauze wings the matriarchs receive
That powdery stuff, and spill the wine of spring.