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 pedigree of honey
Does not concern the bee;
A clover, any time, to him
read more

The pedigree of honey
Does not concern the bee;
A clover, any time, to him
Is aristocracy.

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.

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.

Therefore doth heaven divide
The state of man in divers functions,
Setting endeavor in continual motion;
read more

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.

As busie as a Bee.

As busie as a Bee.

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 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.

His labor is a chant,
His idleness a tune;
Oh, for a bee's experience
read more

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