My Butterfly, my wondrous Butterfly,
Forsaking temple great, thou choosest me,
When form and burnished wings arrive—I see
With joy, as ne’er before, thy glory nigh.
We journey through the city, thou and I,
In store and street with joined hearts and free,
While men admire thy trust and amity,
But wonder not in thee, nor question why.
At length thy wings bedecked with Heaven’s art,
Begin to wave, as Nature planned, and east