wsh@hou5f.UUCP (Willie Heck) (08/15/83)
TO A BUTTERFLY by William Wordsworth (1770-1850) 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.