BEE: The pedigree of honey

 honeybee pollinating

Bee poems by Emily Dickinson


The Bee is not afraid of me.
I know the Butterfly.
The pretty people in the Woods
Receive me cordially—

The Brooks laugh louder when I come—
The Breezes madder play;
Wherefore mine eye thy silver mists,
Wherefore, Oh Summer’s Day?

Honey_Bee 4

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

Honey_Bee 4

Partake as doth the Bee,
Abstemiously.
The Rose is an Estate—
In Sicily.

Honey_Bee 4

Fame is a bee.
It has a song—
It has a sting—
Ah, too, it has a wing.

Honey_Bee 4


About wordcloud9

Nona Blyth Cloud has lived and worked in the Los Angeles area for the past 45 years, spending much of that time commuting on the 405 Freeway. After Hollywood failed to appreciate her genius for acting and directing, she began a second career managing non-profits, from which she has retired. Nona has now resumed writing whatever comes into her head, instead of reports and pleas for funding. She lives in a small house overrun by books with her wonderful husband and a bewildered Border Collie.
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