To A Butterfly

 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.

By William Wordsworth 1807