THE FREED BUTTERFLY.
Reading edition
Yes, go, little butterfly, Fan the warm air With your soft silken pinions, So brilliant and fair; A poor, fluttering prisoner No longer you'll be; There! Out of the window! You are free—you are free!
Go, rest on the bosom Of some favorite flower; Go, sport in the sunlight Your brief little hour; For your day, at the longest, Is scarcely a span: Then go and enjoy it; Be gay while you can.
As for me, I have something More useful to do: I must work, I must learn— Though I play sometimes, too. All your days with the blossoms, Bright thing, you may spend; They will close with the summer, Mine never shall end.