Sweet Insect! That On Two Small Wings Doth Fly, And, Flying, Carry On Those Wings Yourself; Methinks I See You, Looking From Your Eye, As Tho' You Thought The World A Wicked Elf. Offspring Of Summer! Brimstone Is Thy Foe; And When It Kills Ye, Soon You Lose Your Breath: They Rob Your Honey; But Don't Let You Go, Thou Harmless Victim Of Ambitious Death! How Sweet Is Honey! Coming From The Bee; Sweeter Than Sugar, In The Lump Or Not: And, As We Get This Honey All From Thee, Child Of The Hive! Thou Shalt Not Be Forgot. So When I Catch, I'll Take Thee Home With Me, And Thou Shall Be My Friend, Oh! Bee! Bee! Bee!