BUTTERFLY WISDOM.

A butterfly poised on a wild-rose spray, As a child tripped by one summer day, And he thought: "How sorrowful she must be To know she can never have wings like me!" But the child passed on, with a careless eye Of the gay-winged, proud, young butterfly, While he fluttered about, as butterflies will, Sipping of honey and dew his fill. The butterfly spread his wings to the sky, As the sweet-faced child again tripped by, And he thought: "How envious she will be My beautiful azure wings to see!" But the child passed, with a lightsome heart, Where never had lodged a poisonous dart, While he fluttered about, as butterflies will, Sipping of honey and dew his fill.

When the child again passed the wild-rose sweet, A bit of azure fell at her feet; She lifted it from the moss, and said:— "Poor little butterfly, it is dead!" Then she tossed it up towards the wild-rose spray, And, singing merrily, went her way, With never a thought, the summer through, Of the butterfly and its wings of blue.