(570 BC – 488 BC)

The Bee - Poem by Anacreon

Love, a Bee that lurk'd among
Roses saw not, and was stung:
Who for his hurt finger crying,
Running sometimes, sometimes flying,
Doth to his fair mother hie,
And O help, cries he, I die;
A wing'd snake hath bitten me,
Call'd by countrymen a Bee:
At which Venus, if such smart
A Bee's little sting impart,
How much greater is the pain,
They, whom thou hast hurt, sustain?

Comments about The Bee by Anacreon

  • Rookie - 460 Points Reyvrex Questor Reyes (9/19/2012 6:48:00 AM)

    Beautiful again. Admirable. (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, September 19, 2012

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