TO A BUTTERFLY by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH
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| TO A BUTTERFLY | |
| I've watched you now a full half hour Self-poised upon that yellow flower; And, little Butterfly! indeed I know not if you sleep or feed. How motionless!--not frozen seas More motionless!--and then What joy awaits you, when the breeze Hath found you out among the trees, And calls you forth again! This plot of orchard-ground is ours; My trees they are, my Sister's flowers: Here rest your wings when they are weary, Here lodge as in a sanctuary! Come often to us, fear no wrong; Sit near us on the bough! We'll talk of sunshine and of song, And summer days, when we were young; Sweet childish days, that were as long As twenty days are now. |
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| WILLIAM WORDSWORTH, | |
