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The busy bee has no time for sorrow.—BLAKE, Proverbs of Hell
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Nature's confectioner, the bee.—JOHN CLEVELAND, Fuscara
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A vagrant bee twanged like an airy lyre
Of one rich-hearted chord.—JOHN DAVIDSON, The Ordeal
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How many cups the bee partakes,—The debauchee of dews!—EMILY DICKINSON, Nature
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Strange how often they speak to you of bees. The order and sweetness of a hive seem to have made a great impression on the Russians of this age. Again and again in Tiflis people talked of bees with a sort of wistful affection, as if the cool pungence of bees were a tonic to them in he midst of the soggy bleeding chaos of civil war and revolution.—JOHN DOS PASSOS, Orient Express
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Burly, dozing bumblebee,
Where thou art is clime for me.
Let them sail for Porto Rique,
Far-off heats through seas to seek.
I will follow thee alone,
Thou animated torrid-zone!—EMERSON, The Bumble-Bee
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The careful insect 'midst his works I view,
Now from the flowers exhaust the fragrant dew,
With golden treasures load his little thighs,
And steer his distant journey through the skies.—JOHN GAY, Rural Sports
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While Honey lies in Every Flower, no doubt,
It takes a Bee to get the Honey out.—ARTHUR GUITERMAN, A Poet's Proverbs
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Bees work for man, and yet they never bruise
Their Master's flower, but leave it, having done,
As fair as ever and as fit to use;
So both the flower doth stay, and honey run.—GEORGE HERBERT, Jacula Prudentum
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No good sensible working bee listens to the advice of a bedbug on the subject of business.—ELBERT HUBBARD, Epigrams
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"O bees, sweet bees!" I said; "that nearest field
Is shining white with fragrant immortelles.
Fly swiftly there and drain those honey wells."—HELEN HUNT JACKSON, My Bees
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Even bees, the little almsmen of spring bowers,
Know there is richest juice in poison-flowers.—KEATS, Isabella
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Listen! Oh, listen! Here ever hum the golden bees
Underneath full-blossomed trees,
At once with glowing fruit and flowers crowned.—LOWELL, The Sirens
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As busie as a Bee.—JOHN LYLY, Euphues & his England
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That which is not good for the swarm, neither is it good for the bee.—MARCUS AURELIUS, Meditations
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In the nice bee, what sense so subtly true
From pois'nous herbs extracts the healing dew?—POPE, Essay on Man
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A swarm of bees in May is worth a load of hay but a swarm in July is not worth a fly.—Proverb
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The bee from her industry in the summer eats honey all the winter.—Proverb
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Bees that have honey in their mouths have stings in their tails.—Proverb
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He has a bee in his bonnet.—Proverb
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Honey is sweet, but the bee stings.—Proverb
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For so work the honey-bees,
Creatures that by a rule in nature teach
The act of order to a peopled kingdom.
They have a king and officers of sorts,
Where some, like merchants, venture trade abroad,
Others like soldiers, armed in their stings,
Make boot upon the summer's velvet buds,
Which pillage they with merry march bring home.—SHAKESPEARE, Henry V
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Where the bee sucks, there suck I;
In a cowslip's bell I lie.—SHAKESPEARE, The Tempest
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The solitary Bee
Whose buzzing was the only sound of life,
Flew there on restless wing,
Seeking in vain one blossom where to fix.—SOUTHEY, Thalaba
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How doth the little busy bee Improve each shining hour,
And gather honey all the day
From every opening flower!—ISAAC WATTS, Divine Songs
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The wild Bee reels from bough to bough
With his furry coat and his gauzy wing,
Now in a lily cup, and now
Setting a jacinth bell a-swing,
In his wandering.—OSCAR WILDE, Her Voice
