The Promiscuous Bee All bees love flowers. —First line of a syllogism from a logic text The promiscuous bee that flits through the bower Lends his affections to each beautiful flower. In love with the short, in love with the tall; With cheerful demeanor tending them all. You tell me, my dear, to only choose one, When so many beauties sway under the sun. Among the wild oats, the errant bee goes From his global adventures, sweet honey still flows. Your beauty, my love, could make a man weep, Dream of the muses and toss in his sleep. But for…