How nice to be a honey bee,
Flying the world fast and free.
Buzzing high through trees and towers,
Drinking delights from summer flowers.
But things aren’t always as they seem,
His life not just a happy dream.
His orders come from high above,
Made to work and not to love.
For in the hive, there lies unseen,
His Mistress there, the honey Queen.
niamhgarvey.com 
I like it. These are poets I like.
Lord Tennison
Shelley
Wordsworth
Sweet!