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Thomas Moore - What the Bee Is To the Floweret
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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.
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