MY BUTTERFLY[11]

My Butterfly, my wondrous Butterfly, Forsaking temple great, thou choosest me, When form and burnished wings arrive—I see With joy, as ne’er before, thy glory nigh. We journey through the city, thou and I, In store and street with joined hearts and free, While men admire thy trust and amity, But wonder not in thee, nor question why. At length thy wings bedecked with Heaven’s art, Begin to wave, as Nature planned, and east Thou farest forth with grace, but to my heart Thou ever clingest still. Fly on and feast On nectar such as men have never wrought; In thee is trust and love and, why not, thought?