 | Poetry for children |  |
40
The Bee and Butterfly.
“Come neighbour Bee,” said Butterfly,
And spend a merry hour,
For cloudless is the summer sky,
And fragrant every flower;
And spend a merry hour,
For cloudless is the summer sky,
And fragrant every flower;
The Humming-bird a party gives.
Closed by a ball in state,
A fashionable life she lives,
I'll shew you to the féte.
Closed by a ball in state,
A fashionable life she lives,
I'll shew you to the féte.
Here is her card, she sent it down,
She meant to call no doubt,
But knew your Queen was apt to frown,
And you are always out.
She meant to call no doubt,
But knew your Queen was apt to frown,
And you are always out.
But to the Butterfly, the Bee
Replied, with serious brow,
“Suppose you work an hour with me,
I'm not at leisure now.
Replied, with serious brow,
“Suppose you work an hour with me,
I'm not at leisure now.
By daily industry I live,
Say, will you aid my task?
And bear this pollen to the hive,
If I do what you ask?
Say, will you aid my task?
41
If I do what you ask?
Perhaps you'd better toil a while
For your own winter store,
For Summer wears a fleeting smile,
And Autumn's at the door.”
For your own winter store,
For Summer wears a fleeting smile,
And Autumn's at the door.”
“Good bye,” the Butterfly rejoin'd,
You've grown a mope I see,
There's nothing hurts a brilliant mind,
Like stupid industry,”
You've grown a mope I see,
There's nothing hurts a brilliant mind,
Like stupid industry,”
And so, the Bee with cheerful care
Pursued on pinions light,
Thro' the vast regions of the air
Her hackless path aright.
Pursued on pinions light,
Thro' the vast regions of the air
Her hackless path aright.
The tallest trees she ventured up,
And scal'd the vine-clad wall,
Singing and tasting every cup,
But temperate in all.
And scal'd the vine-clad wall,
Singing and tasting every cup,
But temperate in all.
One morn, as from her honied cell
'Mid Autumn's frost she sped,
Beneath a flowret's withered bell
The Butterfly lay dead.
'Mid Autumn's frost she sped,
42
The Butterfly lay dead.
| Poetry for children | |