Little chemic-artisan,
Doing work no other can,
Deep in dewy nectaries,
Petal-walled refectories--
Apple-blossom, columbine,
Rose and lily, all are thine,
Yet, though oft thy weight they bear,
Dost thou know how they are fair?
Thine are sun and Summer breeze--
Hast thou aught of joy in these?
Pollen-yellow dumbledore,
Leave thy clovers tumbled o'er!
What's a lily? What's a rose?
Down the golden lane he goes,
Drowsing forth a prosy song,
"Honey! Honey!" all day long,
Wasting life's diviner sweet,
Hiving food for drones to eat.
Oh, thou silly, silly bee!
Idle here and learn of me!
