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Bees Disapprove of Us
There’s nothing the bees care to learn from us
We talk to them anyway in our idleness
Having put away the hose or the rake
We’re in the mood to gab for a little while
But Calvinist bees fly impatiently by
From flower to water to office-hive
To check their quotas and hum their reports
Then speed back to their favorite flowered fields
They disapprove of us indolent men
And so rebuke us for our slothy sin
