THE bee is not afraid of me,
I know the butterfly;
The pretty people in the woods
Receive me cordially.
The brooks laugh louder when I come,
The breezes madder play.
Wherefore, mine eyes, thy silver mists?
Wherefore, O summer’s day?
The bee is not afraid of me
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Summary
"The Bee Is Not Afraid of Me" is a short poem in which a speaker walks through a summer wood and is welcomed by everything in it. The bee, the butterfly and the "pretty people" of the woods greet her warmly, while brooks laugh louder and breezes play more wildly at her arrival. Yet the closing lines turn toward a sudden, unexplained welling of tears. Joy and ache meet in just eight lines of nature imagery.
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