I see Ralph Waldo’s Humble-Bee
As it drifts from coasts to seas
Wiser than the wisest seer
With no callous, vapid fear.
It is worker, with great buzz
It flies all day without a fuss.
To be this welcome humble-bee
Poet, not rebel, to draw honey
From every choice Bulbell
From every draping honeysuckle
From the tulips, and the trees
Sweet fruit and cherry berries.
For to draw from this I would adorn
Epicurean wisdom in its form.
For wise, oh wise, humble-bee
Drawing forth your sweet honey.
To be a humble-bee I confess
Would be something of the best.
To draw from each wise scholar found
A wise enchantment, no chaff unsound.
For is this not the humble-bee
Flying, wiser than you or me?
A poet, lauded for his fame
Working with silent, cheery claim
Upon every bulbous flower stock;
The humble-bee would feed the flock
Of scholars reckless, proud and few
In a time which comes so new.
To collect all wisdom,
None profane,
To ever see a thing
Ere what’s atop a flower stem.
Beautiful golds, whites and reds
Violets and blues and crimson bread
Of nectar to put in hexagonal beds
To make into honey, so sweet and soft.
So the next generation’s wisdom is not lost.
B. K. Neifert 