Classic Poem

As when of frequent Bees
Swarmes rise out of a hollow rocke, repairing the degrees
Of their egression endlesly with ever rising new
From forth their sweet nest, as their store, still as it faded, grew
And never would ceasse, sending forth her clusters to the spring
They still crowd out so--this flocke here, that there, belabouring
The loaded flowres: so from the ships and tents the armie's store
Troopt to these Princes and the Court along th' unmeasur'd shore . . .