To A Butterfly
To A Butterfly1 min 346 1 min 346
I've watched you now a half-hour;
Self-poised upon that yellow flower
And, little butterfly! indeed
I know not if you sleep or feed.
How motionless!and then
More motionless!-not a frozen seas
What joy awaits you, when the breeze
Hath found you out among the trees,
And calls you forth again!
This plot of orchard-ground is ours;
My trees they are, my Sister's flowers;
Here rest your wings when they are weary;
Here lodge as in sanctuary!
Come often to us, fear no wrong;
Sit near us on the bough!
We'll talk of sunshine and of song,
And summer days, when we were young;
Sweet childish days, that were as long
As twenty days are now.