On a Honey Bee

The honey-bee collects his store From gardens, fields, and meadows fair;

From morning’s light till evening’s lore, A laborer that finds its care.

In every flower, he sips the dew, And carries sweetness to his home;

Each golden orb of honey, true, Is born from labor o’er the foam.

Oh, may I emulate thy skill, In seeking truth on mission pure;

And though I fall beneath the will, My heart shall never lose its cure.

• Philip Freneau