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.

Seeing only what is fair,
Sipping only what is sweet,
. . . .
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Seeing only what is fair,
Sipping only what is sweet,
. . . .
Leave the chaff, and take the wheat.

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

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

The bee is enclosed, and shines preserved, in a tear of the
sisters of Phaeton, so that it seems read more

The bee is enclosed, and shines preserved, in a tear of the
sisters of Phaeton, so that it seems enshrined in its own nectar.
It has obtained a worthy reward for its great toils; we may
suppose that the bee itself would have desired such a death.

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.

"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."

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.

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.

As busie as a Bee.

As busie as a Bee.