Edna St. Vincent Millay
Borage, forage for bees
And for those who love blue,
Why must you,
Having only been transplanted
From where you were not wanted
Either by the bee or by me
From under the sage, engage in this
I was tender about your slender
I thought you would send out shoot after
Of thick cucumber-smelling, hairy leaves.
But why anybody believes
Anything, I do not know. I thought I
could trust you.