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.