[MORNING.]
Am I awake? am I alive? Then it was true, after all. Aunt Caterpillar told me, that if I would cover myself over, and lie stock-still, and go to sleep, I should wake up a beauty. She said I should no longer creep, but should fly like the birds; and I do. She said I would never need to chew leaves any more, but might feed upon sugar of roses, and sip honey from the flowers. She said I should have beautiful wings of purple and gold. And it is every word true.
Now I’m flying. Oh, glorious! This floating in the air—oh, what a joy it is! Good-by, you little worms! Here I go up, up, up,—a trifle dizzy, that is to be expected at first,—higher, higher. Good-morning, Mr. Bluebird! We have wings, haven’t we? Down,—no, I will not touch the earth: I will rock in this lily, brush the dew from the mignonette, breathe the perfume of the heliotrope, and rest in the heart of this damask-rose.
What sweet rest! How soft these rose-leaves are! Let me nestle close,—close. But I grow faint with the perfume, and must be off,—off to the hills, where sweetbrier and wild roses grow. Cousin Moth says she goes there every day. Oh the joy of flying! Up, down; up, down; up, down; now rest, now float, now sip, now rock, now away, away!
Here are the tall blue meadow-flowers. I’ll stay a while with them. How long it used to take me, with my eighteen legs, to creep thus far! Whom have we here? What mean, dull fly is this? and why should he have wings? What!—keep company with me? You? Impossible! Have you noticed who I am, pray? or are you asleep? Look at my brilliant wings! I am a Butterfly, born in the purple. Of some use?—dear me! of what use could such as you be to such as I? Upon my word, I pity you; but all can’t be Butterflies, or go in company with Butterflies. Please don’t follow, I should feel so mortified! Good-by! Now for a long, long flight over the meadows!
The hills, at last,—the breezy hills! Ah! good bees, have you come too? and you poor little wee grasshoppers! Dear humming-bird, isn’t it jolly? Why don’t you sing? You don’t know how?—what a pity! But you can hum. Oh this charming sweetbrier! and here are wild-roses: now we’ll have a merry time among the wild-roses, and play in the fragrant sweet-fern.