From one of my all-time favorite master-crafters of the written word, Oscar Wilde.
I pulled it from his poem Panthea, a long rich prose that touches on everything from desire to religion. It is hauntingly beautiful.
My favorite line:
White lilies, in whose cups the gold bees dream.
I can imagine the moment he found that line...strolling in St. James Park, with his jewel encrusted cane, lavender gloves and a green carnation on his lapel...the sunlight moves and his gaze settles onto one of the garden areas...he notices gold bees happily buzzing around the white lilies, drunk with pollen love.
One of the things that I love most about Oscar Wilde (besides the fact that he is Irish which runs through my blood too) is that he was an artist that stayed true to himself and refused to conform to the rules of Victorian Society. He is such an interesting person. I would have loved to met him. I would love to go where the gold bees dream.