A Bee at Work
I scanned the bushes with their blooms
And found a bee with hovering errand.
I saw it crawl within a bloom
And took its picture while it worked,
Its body buried in the field
Of pollen harvest. Pistil has
The stuff it's looking for--among
The stigmas, styles and stamens with
A patience, most determined, it
Prevails in nectar and in dust--
The pollen on its body, such
A harvest for the hive---such proof
Of its being qualified to teach
The sluggard like the ant to work.
Its stinger is well-known to me,
Not that but other stinger got
Me good--at Gettysburg a young
Boy casualty--I stuck my hand
In cannon's mouth and found out what
Was hiding there. Beware the bore
Of each gun lined up there--attack
By bee or wasp outlives the old
Artillery with solid shot
Or grape or cannister--I learned
How stingers hurt. So let it work
And take its picture if you will.