Two voices, likely lovers, swap gentle metaphors to talk about devotion and doubt. He begins by comparing himself to a bee seeking honey from a flower, promising the same attentive sweetness to her. She answers with a different image: a lush riverbank that whispers kisses to passing waves. Then hesitation creeps in. She reminds him that bees are known to roam once flowers fade, and brooks wander faithlessly after their kiss. But he has a ready reply — if flowers lose their bloom and sunny banks wear away, then it only makes sense for bees and brooks to sip and kiss while they can. The exchange feels light and playful, yet underneath runs a candid awareness that beauty and passion are fleeting. The mood is tender and a little wistful, a gentle nudge to savor love now before time changes everything.
What the Bee Is To the Floweret — Summary
What the bee is to the floweret, When he looks for honey-dew, Through the leaves that close embower it, That, my love, I'll be to you.
She. --
What the bank, with verdure glowing, Is to waves that wander near, Whispering kisses, while they're going, That I'll be to you, my dear.
She. --
But they say, the bee's a rover, Who will fly, when sweets are gone, And, when once the kiss is over, Faithless brooks will wander on.
He. --
Nay, if flowers will lose their looks If sunny banks will wear away, 'Tis but right that bees and brooks Should sip and kiss them, while they may.