There was a belief back then that when someone in a household died, the bees (if you kept bees) would leave and establish a new hive elsewhere. So it was necessary to "tell the bees" what had happened and ask them not to leave.
Yes --- in another venue last year I'd written on the Lizette Woodworth Reese poem, just after the death of Queen Elizabeth II, and after having read about the royal beekeeper's performing this function (and then gone down a rabbit hole about it). It's a fascinating tradition. And of course bees will up and leave, so I can understand, if you were the beekeeper, wanting to head that off.
Thank you for the poem and the analysis. This substack functions a little like a McGuffey Reader for 21st century adults, introducing us to poems we ought to know but, at least in my case, often don't.
This one makes me think of Robert Frost's work in the imagery and the pace.
It seems like it should have been written in a simpler time, further back, rather than so relatively near, and dear.
The before and aftermath are wonderfully displayed, with no joy to relay.
There was a belief back then that when someone in a household died, the bees (if you kept bees) would leave and establish a new hive elsewhere. So it was necessary to "tell the bees" what had happened and ask them not to leave.
Yes --- in another venue last year I'd written on the Lizette Woodworth Reese poem, just after the death of Queen Elizabeth II, and after having read about the royal beekeeper's performing this function (and then gone down a rabbit hole about it). It's a fascinating tradition. And of course bees will up and leave, so I can understand, if you were the beekeeper, wanting to head that off.
Thank you for the poem and the analysis. This substack functions a little like a McGuffey Reader for 21st century adults, introducing us to poems we ought to know but, at least in my case, often don't.
Thank you J. S. for putting my thoughts into words.