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?

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.

Seeing only what is fair,
Sipping only what is sweet,
. . . .
read more

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

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.

Listen! O, listen!
Here come the hum the golden bees
Underneath full blossomed trees,
read more

Listen! O, listen!
Here come the hum the golden bees
Underneath full blossomed trees,
At once with glowing fruit and flowers crowned.

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 careful insect 'midst his works I view,
Now from the flowers exhaust the fragrant dew,
With read more

The careful insect 'midst his works I view,
Now from the flowers exhaust the fragrant dew,
With golden treasures load his little thighs,
And steer his distant journey through the skies.

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.