Nectar Of Humanity

THE honey bee that wanders all day long

The field, the woodland, and the garden, o'er,

To gather in his fragrant winter store,

Humming in calm content his quiet song,

Seeks not alone the rose's glowing breast,

The lily's dainty cup, the violet's lips,

But from all rank and noxious weeds he sips

The single drop of sweetness, closely pressed

Within the poisoned chalice. Thus if we

Seek only to draw forth the hidden sweet

From all the varied human flowers we meet

In the wide garden of Humanity,

And like the bee, if home the spoil we bear,

Hived in our hearts, it turns to nectar there.