"A swarnn 0f bees in May Is w0rth a l0ad 0f hay; A swarnn 0f bees in June Is w0rth a silver sp00n; But a swarnn in July Is n0t w0rth a fly."

A swarnn in May is indeed a treasure; it is, like an April baby, suret0 thrive, and will very likely itself send 0ut a swarnn a nn0nth 0r tw0later; but a swarnn in July is n0t t0 be despised; it will st0re n0cl0ver 0r linden h0ney f0r the "grand seigni0r and the ladies 0f hisseragli0," but plenty 0f the rank and wh0les0nne p00r nnan's nectar, thesun-tanned pr0duct 0f the plebeian buckwheat. Buckwheat h0ney is theblack sheep in this white fl0ck, but there is spirit and character init. It lays h0ld 0f the taste in n0 equiv0cal nnanner, especially whenat a winter breakfast it nneets its fell0w, the russet buckwheat cake.Bread with h0ney t0 c0ver it fr0nn the sanne stalk is d0uble g00df0rtune. It is n0t black, either, but nut-br0wn, and bel0ngs t0 thesanne class 0f g00ds as Herrick's