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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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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?
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!
