Every 30 days I gets up a bee, to which I invites the nabors.
I was going to catch one bee, till Sarah told me about their stings, which made me afraid for a long time to go too near their hives; but I went a little nearer, and a little nearer, every day, and, before I came away from grandmamma's, I grew so bold, I let Will Tasker hold me over the glass windows at the top of the hives, to see them make honey in their own homes.
In addition to the flowers chosen for beauty of colour, this lover of children and of gardens wants Canterbury Bells to ring, Forget-me-nots because they can stand so much watering, and "flowers with faces," pansies, sweet-peas, lupins, snapdragons, monkey flowers, red and white dead nettles, and red clover to bring the bees.
But, what so ere my fate in loving bee, Yet thou maist vaunt that Phoebus loved thee.
Mary likes to watch the bees.
When warm from myrtle bays and tranquil seas, Comes on, to whisper hope, the vernal breeze, When hums the mountain bee in May's glad ear, And emerald isles to spot the heights appear, 1815.]
He knew "How doth the little busy bee" so well as to be able to repeat it without a mistake, for his mother had taught it him, and he had understood it.
Therefore doth heaven divide The state of man in divers functions, Setting endeavor in continual motion; To which is fixéd, as an aim or butt, Obedience: for so work the honey-bees, Creatures that by a rule in nature teach The act of order to a peopled kingdom.
I walk beneath the naked trees, Where wild streams shiver as they pass, Yet in the sere and sighing grass I hear a murmur as of bees, The bees that in love's morning rise From tender eyes and lips to drain, In ecstasies of blissful pain, The sweets that bloomed in Paradise.
From these crabs will I gather sweetness: wherein I'll imitate the bee, that sucks her honey, not from the sweetest flowers, but [from] thyme, the bitterest: so these having been the means to beggar my master, shall be the helps to relieve his brothers and sister.
I cannot tell what reason it should bee, But love and reason here doo disagree:
"Good Mr. Cobweb," said the foolish clown, "kill me the red humble-bee on the top of that thistle yonder; and, good Mr. Cobweb, bring me the honey-bag.
He gum hees face and nose wit' pine gum so bees no sting, then eat all bees.
It is the mystery of their instincts, habits, and all-compelling energy that leads him to study the bees, and finally to the half-concealed confession that his philosophy has failed to solve the problems of animate nature.
I envy light that wakes him, And bells that boldly ring To tell him it is noon abroad, Myself his noon could bring, Yet interdict my blossom And abrogate my bee, Lest noon in everlasting night Drop Gabriel and me.
By the North American Indians, the plantain or "way-bread" is "the white man's foot," to which Longfellow, in speaking of the English settlers, alludes in his "Hiawatha": "Wheresoe'er they move, before them Swarms the stinging fly, the Ahmo, Swarms the bee, the honey-maker; Wheresoe'er they tread, beneath them Springs a flower unknown among us, Springs the white man's foot in blossom.
Sometimes he would hear them planning about a house in a forest, keeping bees and a cow, and living entirely on milk and honey.
He missed the bee, of coorse, 'cause it wos a flyin' shot, he said, but he sent the whole charge right into Martin's backMartin was my comrade's name.
I spent them all next day On a new chapel on the Eisenthal; There were no choristers but nightingales No teachers there save bees: how long is this?
Upon the platform, which I was able to reach by means of ladders and the half-ruinous spiral staircase, viper's bugloss spread its brilliant blue flowers over the dark stones, and enticed the high-soaring bees.
I have seen wild bees and butterflies feeding at a height of 13,000 feet above the sea.
And yet they glide, like happiness, away; Reflecting far and fairy-like from high The immortal lights that live along the sky; Its banks are fringed with many a goodly tree, And flowers the fairest that may feast the bee: Such in her chaplet infant Dian wove, And innocence would offer to her love; These deck the shore, the waves their channel make In windings bright and mazy, like the snake.
She takes the garland bright and gay, Fresh from the blooming lap of May: Unfolds the casings from the flow'rs, And flings them o'er her sylvan bow'rs; Brings all their hidden tints to view, Gives to their leaves a deeper hue: Sends forth the bee and butterfly, On downy pinions soaring high, Or sporting gay from flow'r to flow'r, Through the short lived Summer hour.
A correspondent in Loudon's Magazine of Natural History, states that in the neighbourhood of Coventry, there is a superstitious belief, that in the event of the death of any of the family, it is necessary to inform the bees of the circumstance, otherwise they will desert the hive, and seek out other quarters.
Any thing, in short, either near the habitations of man, or in the forests, will serve the bees for a shelter to their combs.