NOT a flower can be found in the fields, Or the spot that we till for our pleasure, From the largest to least, but it yields The Bee, never wearied, a treasure. Scarce any she quits unexplored, With a diligence truly exact; Yet, steal what she may for her hoard, Leaves evidence none of the fact. Her lucrative task she pursues, And pilfers with so much address, That none of their odour they lose, Nor charm by their beauty the less. Not thus inoffensively preys The canker-worm, indwelling foe! His voracity not thus allays The sparrow, the finch, or the crow. The worm, more expensively fed, The pride of the garden devours; And birds peck the seed from the bed, Still less to be spared than the flowers. But she, with such delicate skill, Her pillage so fits for her use, That the chemist in vain with his still Would labour the like to produce. Then grudge not her temperate meals, Nor a benefit blame as a theft; Since, stole she not all that she steals, Neither honey nor wax would be left. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...KEATS TO FANNY BRAWNE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE MOUSE'S PETITION TO DOCTOR PRIESTLY FOUND IN THE TRAP .. by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD THE MENTAL TRAVELLER by WILLIAM BLAKE SARRAZINE'S SONG, FR. CHAITIVEL by MARIE DE FRANCE SONNET: 144 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE THE IMMORTALITY OF LOVE by ROBERT SOUTHEY THE PUMPKIN by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER MR. BARNEY MAGUIRE'S ACCOUNT OF THE CORONATION by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM |