are sunny, They make of waxen cells a store To fill with purple-clover honey. Their houses in the grass are hid, The thick, warm, sheltering moss amid. And if of one of them the door, By chance, a footstep comes too near, Buzz ! Buzz ! a war-cry straight you hear; A crowd rush out with whirring…
Children's literature, American · Children's literature
Internet Archive · UNC Libraries · Public Domain Mark 1.0. Free to use for anything.
![An illustration from Our little ones and the nursery [serial], 1881, leaf 324](https://img.insideoutlibrary.com/img/1024/ia-ourlittleonesnur8592bost-324-397.webp)
