the action is performed. A man can
not even imagine the consciousness of so short an interval of time as the
five-hundredth part of one second. But insect consciousness can be aware
of such intervals; and a single day of life might well appear to the gnat
as long as the period of a month to a man. Indeed, we have reason to
suppose that to even the shortest-lived insect life does not appear short
at all; and that the ephemeral may actually, so far as felling is
concerned, live as long as a man--although its birth and death does occur
between the rising and the setting of the sun.

We might suppose that bees would form a favourite subject of poetry,
especially in countries where agriculture is practised upon such a scale
as in England. But such is not really the case. Nearly every English poet
makes some reference to bees, as Tennyson does in the famous couplet--

The moan of doves in immemorial elms,
And murmuring of innumerable bees.

But the only really remarkable poem addressed to a bee is by the American
philosopher Emerson. The poem in question can not be compared as to mere
workmanship with some others which I have cited; but as to thinking, it is
very interesting, and you must remember that the philosopher who writes
poetry should be judged for his thought rather than for the measure of his
verse. The whole is not equally good, nor is it short enough to quote
entire; I shall only give the best parts.

Burly, dozing humble-bee,
Where thou art is clime for me.

* * * * *

Zigzag steerer, desert cheerer,
Let me chase thy waving lines;
Keep me nearer, me thy hearer,
Singing over shrubs and vines.

Insect lover of the sun,
Joy of thy dominion!
Sailor of the atmosphere;
Swimmer through the waves of air;
Voyager of light and noon;
Epicurean of June;
Wait, I prithee, till I come
Within earshot of thy hum,--
All without is martyrdom.

* * * * *

Thou, in sunny solitudes,
Rover of the underwoods,
The green silence dost displace
With thy mellow, breezy bass.

* * * * *

Aught unsavory or unclean
Hath my insect never seen;

* * * * *

Wiser far than human seer,
Yellow-breeched philosopher!
Seeing only what is fair,
Sipping only what is sweet,
Thou dost mock at fate and care,
Leave the chaff, and take the wheat.

This