Butterfly in a School-Room.

Gay inmate of our studious room. Adorn'd with nature's brightest dyes, Whose gadding wing, and tissued plume, Allure so many wandering eyes. The breath of eve is gathering bleak, And thou dost shrink beneath its power, And faint, or famish'd, seem'st to seek The essence from yon withering flower Haste to thine own secluded cell, And shield thee from the chilling blast, And let the honied casket well Supply a fresh and free repast. Hast thou no home? Didst thou provide No shelter from autumnal rain? Hast thou no cheering board supplied From all the treasures of the plain? What wilt thou do 'neath wintry skies? Behold! the charms of summer fade, Thy friend, the labouring bee, was wise Ere on their stalks the plants decay'd, Frail insect! shivering 'mid the storm, Thy season of delight is past, And soon that gaudy, graceful form, Shall stiffen on the whelming blast. Companions dear! whose frequent glance Marks yon fair creature's brilliant hue, Methinks, its wing in frolic dance, Doth speak in wisdom's lore to you: Seek not to flutter, and to flaunt, While a few years their courses roll, But heed approaching winter's want, And store the sweetness of the soul.