A swarm of bees in May is worth a load of hay.
A swarm of bees in June is worth a silver spoon.
A swarm of bees in July is not worth a fly.
The hum of bees is the voice of the garden.
- Elizabeth Lawrence
To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee, One clover, and a bee, And revery. The revery alone will do, If bees are few.
Emily Dickinson
A brier rose whose buds yield fragrant harvest for the honey bee.
Letitia Landon
Bee to the blossom, moth to the flame; Each to his passion; what's in a name?
Helen Hunt Jackson
Loud is the summer's busy song
The smallest breeze can find a tongue,
While insects of each tiny size
Grow teasing with their melodies,
Till noon burns with its blistering breath
Around, and day lies still as death.
- John Clare, July
What has happened to summer,
That's what I want to know.
Is she on a vacation -
Who knows where did she go?
Tell, what was she wearing;
A zephyr breeze and rosebud
Or grass and wild berry?
Could she be honeymooning
With spring or early fall
Or has she gone so far away
She'll not return at all?
- Dorothy Ardelle Merriam, One July Summer
I know I am but summer to your heart,
and not the full four seasons of the year.
- Edna St. Vincent Millay
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
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