Saturday, May 22, 2010

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.

--William Wordsworth

2 comments:

  1. This was so amazing-I loved the cheerful wistfulness in every line......

    ReplyDelete
  2. Thank you, Oddyoddyo13; it's one of my favorites! May God bless you and send you Spring days such as the one about which Wordsworth wrote in this poem.

    ReplyDelete