Poems for our children including "Mary had a little lamb," designed for families, sabbath schools, and infant schools |
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THE BOY, THE BEE, AND THE BUTTERFLY.
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 | Poems for our children |  |
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THE BOY, THE BEE, AND THE BUTTERFLY.
A FABLE.
One morning when the sky was fair,
And softly breathed the balmy air,
And little birds were on the wing,
And little lambs were frolicking,
And little boys, a cheerful throng,
Were tripping merrily along,
The school-house garden stands, and there,
With book in satchel, they repair,
The bell rings loud!—away, away!
No truant now may stop to play.
—But Edward was an idle lad,
He loved to play, and he was sad
To hear the bell ring loud—he sighed—
Just then a butterfly he spied,
All powdered o'er with gold, its form
Was bright as rainbow 'mid the storm:
From flower to flower it lightly flew,
And sipped and sipped the silver dew—
Young Edward gazed—‘I wish that I
Was happy as that butterfly.’
A Bee, that on a floweret lay,
And there had toiled since peep of day,
And now her sack with honey filled,
Her legs with yellow wax concealed,
Was just preparing home to steer,
But Edward's wish had thrilled her ear,
And thus she answered—(bees you know
Can work, perhaps they reason too—)
‘Edward, if happiness you prize
Think not 't is found with butterflies—
They sport around while summer shines,
But when the gaudy day declines,
And whistling winds are keen and rude,
They have no home, no friends, no food—
You'll see this idle butterfly
Then shiver, stiffen, sink and die!
For me, 't is true I labor hard,
But then my cells are built and stored,
And 'mid cold winter's fiercest storm,
I live so snug—and lie so warm—
My honey-cups I gaily quaff,
With friends I sing, and sport, and laugh—
'T is spring's and summer's industry
Makes winter hours so sweet to me.
Edward, from my example's truth,
Improve the golden days of youth,
In books, or business steadily
Engage, then like the busy bee,
Should age, or want, or weakness come
You'll find resources, friends and home.
But if, like yonder fluttering thing,
You waste your time in rioting,
A heedless, helpless, useless drone,
You'll have to fly or fall alone.’
And softly breathed the balmy air,
And little birds were on the wing,
And little lambs were frolicking,
And little boys, a cheerful throng,
Were tripping merrily along,
The school-house garden stands, and there,
With book in satchel, they repair,
The bell rings loud!—away, away!
No truant now may stop to play.
—But Edward was an idle lad,
He loved to play, and he was sad
To hear the bell ring loud—he sighed—
Just then a butterfly he spied,
All powdered o'er with gold, its form
Was bright as rainbow 'mid the storm:
From flower to flower it lightly flew,
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Young Edward gazed—‘I wish that I
Was happy as that butterfly.’
A Bee, that on a floweret lay,
And there had toiled since peep of day,
And now her sack with honey filled,
Her legs with yellow wax concealed,
Was just preparing home to steer,
But Edward's wish had thrilled her ear,
And thus she answered—(bees you know
Can work, perhaps they reason too—)
‘Edward, if happiness you prize
Think not 't is found with butterflies—
They sport around while summer shines,
But when the gaudy day declines,
And whistling winds are keen and rude,
They have no home, no friends, no food—
You'll see this idle butterfly
Then shiver, stiffen, sink and die!
For me, 't is true I labor hard,
But then my cells are built and stored,
And 'mid cold winter's fiercest storm,
I live so snug—and lie so warm—
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With friends I sing, and sport, and laugh—
'T is spring's and summer's industry
Makes winter hours so sweet to me.
Edward, from my example's truth,
Improve the golden days of youth,
In books, or business steadily
Engage, then like the busy bee,
Should age, or want, or weakness come
You'll find resources, friends and home.
But if, like yonder fluttering thing,
You waste your time in rioting,
A heedless, helpless, useless drone,
You'll have to fly or fall alone.’
So spoke the bee and homeward flew,
Young Edward heard, and thanked her too;
Quoth he, ‘with speed to school I'll hie,
I will not be a butterfly.’
Young Edward heard, and thanked her too;
Quoth he, ‘with speed to school I'll hie,
I will not be a butterfly.’
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