My Bees: An Allegory

Helen Hunt Jackson 1830 (Amherst, Massachusetts) – 1885 (San Francisco)



"O bees, sweet bees!" I said, "that nearest field
Is shining white with fragrant immortelles.
Fly swiftly there and drain those honey wells."
Then, spicy pines the sunny hive to shield,
I set, and patient for the autumn's yield
Of sweet I waited.
When the village bells
Rang frosty clear, and from their satin cells
The chestnuts leaped, rejoicing, I unsealed
My hive.
Alas! no snowy honey there
Was stored. My wicked bees had borne away
Their queen and left no trace.
That very day,
An idle drone who sauntered through the air
I tracked and followed, and he led me where
My truant bees and stolen honey lay.
Twice faithless bees! They had sought out to eat
Rank, bitter herbs. The honey was not sweet.

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Submitted on May 13, 2011

Modified on March 06, 2023

38 sec read
132

Quick analysis:

Scheme ABBAACBBADEFBFEEFGG
Closest metre Iambic tetrameter
Characters 710
Words 130
Stanzas 1
Stanza Lengths 19

Helen Hunt Jackson

Helen Maria Hunt Jackson, born Helen Fiske, was an American poet and writer who became an activist on behalf of improved treatment of Native Americans by the United States government. more…

All Helen Hunt Jackson poems | Helen Hunt Jackson Books

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