Lines to a Butterfly.
Blithe reveller in sunny air,
How gaily moves thy happy wing,
In search of rich and dainty fare
Amid the blooming flowers of spring.
The splendid colours brightly glance,
Which form thy beautiful attire,
Like tinted clouds o’er heaven’s expanse
Illumed by sunset’s rosy fire.
How sprightly is thy rapid flight,
Beneath the warm and cheering ray;
Thine seems a life of pure delight,
Gay innocence and mirthful play.
I would not mar thy joyous glee!
Such happiness be ever thine!
I only wish that light and free
And buoyant were my heart as thine.