"I will not forget," said Rhoecus.

Then he could not see the fairy.
In a minute she was gone.

Rhoecus went on through the woods.

How happy he was.

The sky was so blue.

Soon he met some boys.

They were playing a game.

"Come play with us, Rhoecus," said they.

"I will," said he.

They played for a long time.

It was late.

A little bee came flying through the air.

He seemed to bring a message.

Rhoecus was too busy to listen.

He flew around Rhoecus' head.
Rhoecus tried to hit the bee.

Three times he flew around Rhoecus.

Three times Rhoecus hit him.

The last time he hurt him.

The poor little bee flew away.

He flew to the woods.

Rhoecus watched him go.

He saw the sun.

It was just setting.

Then Rhoecus thought of the fairy.

"She told me to come before sunset.

I must hurry.

I must run.

I must get there before the sun sets."
The sun went down behind the hill.
Rhoecus ran on and on.

It was almost dark when he came to the

oak-tree.

He looked all around.

He saw no one.

Soon he heard the fairy.

"Oh Rhoecus, why did you not come?"

said she.

"You said that you would come.
I would have been your friend.
I would have made you so happy.
I sent the little bee to call you.

You hurt the little bee.

You were not kind to him.

Only gentle eyes can see the fairies.
I am here, but you cannot see me.
Good bye, Rhoecus."

Rhoecus felt very badly.

"I will never hurt a bee or bird again,"

said he.

"I will try to be gentle."

Do you think that he ever saw the fairy again?

RHOECUS,

A yellow bee buzzed about his ear

As if to light. And Rhoecus laughed

And brushed him off with rough, impatient hand.
But still the bee came back, and thrice again
Rhoecus did beat him off with growing wrath.
Then through the window flew the wounded bee,
And Rhoecus, tracking him with angry eyes,
Saw the sharp mountain-peak of Thessaly
Against the red disk of the setting sun.
Without a word he turned, and rushing forth
Ran madly through the city and the gate.

Then sighed the voice, "O Rhoecus! nevermore
Shalt thou behold me or by day or night.
Thou didst scorn my humble messenger,
And send'st him back to me with bruised wings.
We spirits only show to gentle eyes.

Farewell! for thou canst never see me more."

-Lowell.