Look on the bee upon the wing 'mong flowers;
  How brave, how bright his life! then mark, him hiv'd,
    Cramp'd, cringing in his self-built, social cell,
      Thus it is in the world-hive; most where men
        Lie deep in cities as in drifts.
      - Philip James Bailey



The pedigree of honey
  Does not concern the bee;
    A clover, any time, to him
      Is aristocracy.
      - Emily Dickinson, Poems (V)