Pun - The title can be seen as a pun in that it talks about the interaction of bees and the symbiotic relationship that exists in the hive. However, a "bee" also can be seen as a meeting of people, such as a quilting bee or spelling bee.

Alliteration, Assonance, and Diction - The alliteration and assonance in the first stanza create an uneasy feeling. It opposes the good and decent diction so that it seems that "something familiar has gone awry." (4, 6, Source H)

Juxtaposition - The juxtaposition of "they" and "I" that is prevalent throughout the poem, mainly in the first stanza, enforces her separation from the villagers and ultimately society. (1, 3, 4, 5)

Allusion - Plath alludes to Daphne (In Ovid), the greek goddess who metamorphosed into a laurel tree to escape Apollo, throughout the poem, but specifically in lines 10 and 40 where the speaker becomes "milkweed silk" and "cow parsley" to avoid a bee attack. The speaker in her "sleeveless summery dress" resembles Daphne in their shared vulnerability. (10, 40)

Repitition - The repitition in line 11 is used to demonstrate the speaker's inability to perceieve things correctly and her confusion. She assures herself that the bees will not notice her, but she feels confused and vulnerable nonetheless. However, the repitition in the first line of the last stanza portrays her acceptance of defeat as she finally understands what will happen next, which is her death. (11, 45, 52)

Personification - The first two lines personify items that are used to keep plant scavengers away, but they (in addition to the third line) actually dehumanize the section with the strange imagery and ideas. The personification and metamorphosis emphasize the vulnerability and confusion of the speaker (17, 18, 19)

Similie (yellow, pink, and red) - Lines 17, 19, and 35 all are examples of the strange occurences, like the personification, and reversal to alien-like things that add to the speaker's confusion and terror.

Allusion - The reference to the hawthron tree and the scarlet flowers are an allusion to author Nathaniel Hawthorne. Stanza's five and six which include the reference are describing some sort of ritual between the villagers, (surgeon, butcher, grocer, postman, someone I know) the speaker, and the bee hive. This alludes to Hawthrone's "Young Goodman Brown" because in his story the main character experiences a mysterious encounter with his neighbors in a shorn grove. The scarlet flowers also allude to Hawthrone, but to "The Scarlet Letter" rather than "Young Goodman Brown". The theme and mood of the strange ritual in "The Bee Meeting" contains the same unpleasant ideas as that of "Young Goodman Brown". (21, 26)

 

 

 

 

 

 

Enjambment - This one place where the line is broken up adds to the vivid imagery of the "fingerjoint cells" where the virgin queens are separated, but will soon break out of to search for and kill all of the other virgin queens. (46, 47)

 

 

 

Metaphor - The "pillar of white in a blackout of knives" is the speaker as the magician's girl put into the box and being sawed in half, but she comes out unscathed. This metaphor adds a sense of humor to the death that will follow. (54)

Symbolism - the "Long white box in the grove" symbolizes the hive and the speaker's coffin. It can symbolize the hive in addition to the coffin because the hive is a symbol of survival. It will keep working and living although one bee dies.

Rhetorical Question - 9/11 of the stanzas contain questions, and it begins and ends with a question. All of them, except for the final one, are questions that the speaker attempts to answer. However, the final question is the only one that ends with a period rather than a question mark, and it is the only one that has no answer to it - since it is the last line of the poem. (1, 5, 7, 12, 13, 20, 25, 27, 31, 39, 44, 51, 57)

Tone - The first three stanzas convey a confused and vulnerable tone as the speaker is weak before the hive and the villagers or society. By the seventh stanza, the tone has changed to being contradictory with an apathetic presentation of the frantic sounding words. The end of the poem brings an accepting tone although there is the imminent forshadowing of death with "that long white box in the grove" and "why am I cold."

The Bee Meeting

Who are these people at the bridge to meet me? They are the
          villagers-----
The rector, the midwife, the sexton, the agent for bees.
In my sleeveless summery dress I have no protection,
And they are all gloved and covered, why did nobody tell me?
They are smiling and taking out veils tacked to ancient hats.

I am nude as a chicken neck, does nobody love me?
Yes, here is the secretary of bees with her white shop smock,
Buttoning the cuffs at my wrists and the slit from my neck to my knees.
Now I am milkweed silk, the bees will not notice.
They will not smell my fear, my fear, my fear.

Which is the rector now, is it that man in black?
Which is the midwife, is that her blue coat?
Everybody is nodding a square black head, they are knights in visors,
Breastplates of cheesecloth knotted under the armpits.
Their smiles and their voices are changing. I am led through a beanfield.

Strips of tinfoil winking like people,
Feather dusters fanning their hands in a sea of bean flowers,
Creamy bean flowers with black eyes and leaves like bored hearts.
Is it blood clots the tendrils are dragging up that string?
No, no, it is scarlet flowers that will one day be edible.

Now they are giving me a fashionable white straw Italian hat
And a black veil that molds to my face, they are making me one of them.
They are leading me to the shorn grove, the circle of hives.
Is it the hawthorn that smells so sick?
The barren body of hawthorn, etherizing its children.

Is it some operation that is taking place?
It is the surgeon my neighbors are waiting for,
This apparition in a green helmet,
Shining gloves and white suit.
Is it the butcher, the grocer, the postman, someone I know?

I cannot run, I am rooted, and the gorse hurts me
With its yellow purses, its spiky armory.
I could not run without having to run forever.
The white hive is snug as a virgin,
Sealing off her brood cells, her honey, and quietly humming.

Smoke rolls and scarves in the grove.
The mind of the hive thinks this is the end of everything.
Here they come, the outriders, on their hysterical elastics.
If I stand very still, they will think I am cow-parsley,
A gullible head untouched by their animosity,

Not even nodding, a personage in a hedgerow.
The villagers open the chambers, they are hunting the queen.
Is she hiding, is she eating honey? She is very clever.
She is old, old, old, she must live another year, and she knows it.
While in their fingerjoint cells the new virgins

Dream of a duel they will win inevitably,
A curtain of wax dividing them from the bride flight,
The upflight of the murderess into a heaven that loves her.
The villagers are moving the virgins, there will be no killing.
The old queen does not show herself, is she so ungrateful?

I am exhausted, I am exhausted -
Pillar of white in a blackout of knives.
I am the magician's girl who does not flinch.
The villagers are untying their disguises, they are shaking hands.
Whose is that long white box in the grove, what have they accomplished,
          why am I cold.