To You

If I were you I would come home O little bee your flower is too far And more dry the farther you roam Its burning gas what seem a star I would replace you who abandoned Home, but wasps build everywhere Nor, unproven, did I say I pardoned The honey job, the rancid beer A bee must be allowed to be a bee And for wax comb endure the stings Or drink the honey ere die the tree From which flower nectar it brings Why do I call a bee without a name Who cannot see the kites I fly Who thinks all flowers are the same What drone so hurry so to die?