The honey-bee that wanders all day long
The field, the woodland, and the garden o'er,
To gather in his fragrant winter store,
Humming in calm content his winter song,
Seeks not alone the rose's glowing breast,
The lily's dainty cup, the violet's lips,
But from all rank and noxious weeds he sips
The single drop of sweetness closely pressed
Within the poison chalice.
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The little bee returns with evening's gloom,
To join her comrades in the braided hive,
Where, housed read more
The little bee returns with evening's gloom,
To join her comrades in the braided hive,
Where, housed beside their might honey-comb,
They dream their polity shall long survive.
Burly, dozing humblebee,
Where thou art is clime for me.
Let them sail for Porto Rique,
read more
Burly, dozing humblebee,
Where thou art is clime for me.
Let them sail for Porto Rique,
Far-off heats through seas to seek.
I will follow thee alone,
Thou animated torrid-zone!
"O bees, sweet bees!" I said; "that nearest field
Is shining white with fragrant immortelles
Fly swiftly read more
"O bees, sweet bees!" I said; "that nearest field
Is shining white with fragrant immortelles
Fly swiftly there and drain those honey wells."
You are my honey, honeysuckle, I am the bee.
You are my honey, honeysuckle, I am the bee.
His labor is a chant,
His idleness a tune;
Oh, for a bee's experience
read more
His labor is a chant,
His idleness a tune;
Oh, for a bee's experience
Of clovers and of noon!
The wild Bee reels from bough to bough
With his furry coat and his gauzy wing,
Now read more
The wild Bee reels from bough to bough
With his furry coat and his gauzy wing,
Now in a lily cup, and now
Setting a jacinth bell a-swing,
In his wandering.
The solitary Bee
Whose buzzing was the only sound of life,
Flew there on restless wing,
read more
The solitary Bee
Whose buzzing was the only sound of life,
Flew there on restless wing,
Seeking in vain one blossom where to fix.
For pitty, Sir, find out that Bee
Which bore my Love away
I'le seek him in your read more
For pitty, Sir, find out that Bee
Which bore my Love away
I'le seek him in your Bonnet brave,
I'le seek him in your eyes.
Bees work for man, and yet they never bruise
Their Master's flower, but leave it having done,
read more
Bees work for man, and yet they never bruise
Their Master's flower, but leave it having done,
As fair as ever and as fit to use;
So both the flower doth stay and honey run.
