The Apiary
The Apiary is a bee village,
From thence they fly bent on pillage,
Extracting honey from the flowers;
They care not who doth own the bowers.
They seize on garden or on field,
Wherever blossoms sweets do yield;
’Mong garden flowers or fields of clover
They do roam about all over.
For their own use they make the honey,
Though owners sell it oft for money.
The bees so skilful do design
Their honey comes and they love sunshine.
From flower to flower they fly on wing,
And each one armed with a sharp sting,
Determined all the sweets to sieze,
Those marauding honey bees.
They live in a great commonwealth,
And they punish fraud or stealth;
They busy toil from morn ’till ’een,
And they are loyal to their Queen.
But bees, like men, they sometimes thrive
By robbing of their neighbors hive;
The weaker from their homes they drive,
While stronger flourish and survive.