 | Poems |  |
36
THE BUTTERFLY.
Thou little beauty, wafted by
Upon the summer's gentle sigh;
What art thou? Tell me, pray!
A sunbeam wandering from the sky,
That earthward found its way?
Upon the summer's gentle sigh;
What art thou? Tell me, pray!
A sunbeam wandering from the sky,
That earthward found its way?
A gorgeous flower, too rudely blown?
A beautiful bright birdling, flown
From some enchanted coast—
A winged mosaic, that hath known
More art than man can boast?
A beautiful bright birdling, flown
From some enchanted coast—
A winged mosaic, that hath known
More art than man can boast?
Spring's sudden flying brought to view
Thy form, among the moss that grew
Along the garden wall;
I saw thee as thou didst renew
The fleeces of thy pall.
Thy form, among the moss that grew
Along the garden wall;
I saw thee as thou didst renew
The fleeces of thy pall.
37
And from the homely commonplace
Of thy crude life I now can trace
Thy fair and wondrous powers;
I learn the secret of the grace
That brightens my dull hours.
Of thy crude life I now can trace
Thy fair and wondrous powers;
I learn the secret of the grace
That brightens my dull hours.
When folded in the noiseless gloom—
Lo! the shut portals of thy room
At last were opened wide—
Sunlight had cleft the sealéd tomb
Where beauty did abide.
Lo! the shut portals of thy room
At last were opened wide—
Sunlight had cleft the sealéd tomb
Where beauty did abide.
May not the homely thought we find
Among the rudest of our kind
Yet serve an end complete,
If chance it be but choicely lined,
As was thy winding sheet?
Among the rudest of our kind
Yet serve an end complete,
If chance it be but choicely lined,
As was thy winding sheet?
For so a poem will forsake
Its little hiding cell, to wake
In life's delicious pain,
When sunshine of the heart shall break
The chrysalis of the brain.
Its little hiding cell, to wake
In life's delicious pain,
When sunshine of the heart shall break
The chrysalis of the brain.
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