 | Small Tableaux |  |
105
THE BUTTERFLY.
Alexis seized a prisoned butterflyTo set it free, on a bright morn of May;
But the kind touch brushed half the tints away
From the rich wings, though handled tenderly.
Then spake he out to bashful Isabel,—
‘Behold sweet Nature's venturous faith! and say,
Why thou dost aye refuse thy heart to stay
On mine, that is so fond and loves so well?
Is beauty trusted to the morning dews?
And to the butterfly's mischanceful wing?
To the dissolving cloud in rainbow hues?
To the frail tenure of an early spring,
In blossoms and in dyes? And must I lose
Claim to such trust,—all Nature's underling?’
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