His labor is a chant,
His idleness a tune;
Oh, for a bee's experience
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His labor is a chant,
His idleness a tune;
Oh, for a bee's experience
Of clovers and of noon!

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.

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.

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.

You are my honey, honeysuckle, I am the bee.

You are my honey, honeysuckle, I am the bee.

The solitary Bee
Whose buzzing was the only sound of life,
Flew there on restless wing,
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The solitary Bee
Whose buzzing was the only sound of life,
Flew there on restless wing,
Seeking in vain one blossom where to fix.

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.

As busie as a Bee.

As busie as a Bee.

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.