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You are my honey, honeysuckle, I am the bee.
You are my honey, honeysuckle, I am the bee.
 The pedigree of honey
 Does not concern the bee;
  A clover, any time, to him
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 The pedigree of honey
 Does not concern the bee;
  A clover, any time, to him
   Is aristocracy. 
 In the nice bee, what sense so subtly true
 From pois'nous herbs extracts the healing dew?  
 In the nice bee, what sense so subtly true
 From pois'nous herbs extracts the healing dew? 
 Therefore doth heaven divide
 The state of man in divers functions,
  Setting endeavor in continual motion;
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 Therefore doth heaven divide
 The state of man in divers functions,
  Setting endeavor in continual motion;
   To which is fixed as an aim or butt
    Obedience; for so work the honeybees,
     Creatures that by a rule in nature teach
      The act of order to a peopled kingdom.
       They have a king, and officers of sorts,
        Where some like magistrates correct at home,
         Others like merchants venture trade abroad,
          Others like soldiers armed in their stings
           Make boot upon the summer's velvet buds,
            Which pillage they with merry march bring home
             To the tent-royal of their emperor,
              Who, busied in his majesties, surveys
               The singing masons building roofs of gold,
                The civil citizens kneading up the honey,
                 The poor mechanic porters crowding in
                  Their heavy burdens at his narrow gate,
                   The sad-eyed justice with his surly hum
                    Delivering o'er to executors pale
                     The lazy yawning drone. 
 Bees work for man, and yet they never bruise
 Their Master's flower, but leave it having done,
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 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. 
 Burly, dozing humblebee,
 Where thou art is clime for me.
  Let them sail for Porto Rique,
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 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! 
 How doth the little busy bee
 Improve each shining hour,
  And gather honey all the day
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 How doth the little busy bee
 Improve each shining hour,
  And gather honey all the day
   From every opening flower. 
 The honey-bee that wanders all day long
 The field, the woodland, and the garden o'er,
  To gather read more 
 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. 
 Listen! O, listen!
 Here come the hum the golden bees
  Underneath full blossomed trees,
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 Listen! O, listen!
 Here come the hum the golden bees
  Underneath full blossomed trees,
   At once with glowing fruit and flowers crowned.