A BUTTERFLY IN THE CITY.

Fair creature of a few short sunny hours,

Sweet guileless fay,

Whence flittest thou, from what bright world of flowers,

This summer day?

What quiet Eden of melodious song,

What wild retreat,

Desertest thou for this impatient throng,

This crowded street?

Why didst thou quit thy comrades of the grove

And meadows green?

What Fate untoward urges thee to rove

Through this strange scene?

Have nectared roses lost their power to gain

Thy fond caress?

Do woodbine blooms, with lofty scorn, disdain

Thy loveliness?

Oh, hie thee to the fragrant country air

And liberty!

The city is the home of toil and care—

No place for thee!

Edwin C. Smales.

Printed and Published by W. & R. Chambers, 47 Paternoster Row, London, and 339 High Street, Edinburgh.

[Transcriber’s Note—the following changes have been made to this text.

Page 357: boycoted to boycotted—“picketed and boycotted”.]