"O bees, sweet bees!" I said, "that nearest field <br />Is shining white with fragrant immortelles. <br />Fly swiftly there and drain those honey wells." <br />Then, spicy pines the sunny hive to shield, <br />I set, and patient for the autumn's yield <br />Of sweet I waited. <br />When the village bells <br />Rang frosty clear, and from their satin cells <br />The chestnuts leaped, rejoicing, I unsealed <br />My hive. <br />Alas! no snowy honey there <br />Was stored. My wicked bees had borne away <br />Their queen and left no trace. <br />That very day, <br />An idle drone who sauntered through the air <br />I tracked and followed, and he led me where <br />My truant bees and stolen honey lay. <br />Twice faithless bees! They had sought out to eat <br />Rank, bitter herbs. The honey was not sweet.<br /><br />Helen Hunt Jackson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-bees-an-allegory/
