Seeing only what is fair,
  Sipping only what is sweet,
    . . . .
        a song from 1901

The careful insect 'midst his works I view,
  Now from the flowers exhaust the fragrant dew,
    With golden treasures load his little thighs,
      And steer his distant journey through the skies.
      - John Gay, Rural Sports (canto I, l. 82)