Bee Life. 



The post office is in a flower, 

 Which opens at a certain hour: 

 Miss Crocus keeps it, fresh and fair; 

 The tresses of her flowing hair 

 They ghtter hke the purest gold ; 

 And by her safl'ron cakes are sold. 



Near is the pothouse where both grog 

 Is served to Bumble-Bees, and prog ; 

 And when the Bumble-Bees get groggy, 

 Th eir intellect, hke men's, is foggy. 



