Poem by Thomas Moore

From “Irish Melodies”. 47. What the Bee Is to the Floweret

    WHAT the bee is to the flowert,
He. — When he looks for honey-dew,
    Through the leaves that close embower it,
          That, my love, I’ll be to you.
    What the bank, with verdure glowing,
She. — Is to waves that wander near,
    Whispering kisses, while they’re going,
          That I’ll be to you, my dear.
    But they say, the bee’s a rover,
She. — Who will fly, when sweets are gone,
    And, when once the kiss is over,
          Faithless brooks will wander on.
    Nay, if flowers will lose their looks
He. — If sunny banks will wear away,
    ’Tis but right that bees and brooks
          Should sip and kiss them, while they may.

1. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 54
2. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 52
3. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 56
4. From “The Odes of Anacreon”. Ode 64
5. From “Irish Melodies”. 113. Alone in Crowds to Wander On

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