| |
| THE GARDEN beds I wandered by | |
| One bright and cheerful morn, | |
| When I found a new-fledged butterfly, | |
| A-sitting on a thorn, | |
| A black and crimson butterfly, | 5 |
| All doleful and forlorn. | |
| |
| I thought that life could have no sting | |
| To infant butterflies, | |
| So I gazed on this unhappy thing | |
| With wonder and surprise, | 10 |
| While sadly with his waving wing | |
| He wiped his weeping eyes. | |
| |
| Said I, “What can the matter be? | |
| Why weepest thou so sore? | |
| With garden fair and sunlight free | 15 |
| And flowers in goodly store:”— | |
| But he only turned away from me | |
| And burst into a roar. | |
| |
| Cried he, “My legs are thin and few | |
| Where once I had a swarm! | 20 |
| Soft fuzzy fur—a joy to view— | |
| Once kept my body warm, | |
| Before these flapping wing-things grew, | |
| To hamper and deform!” | |
| |
| At that outrageous bug I shot | 25 |
| The fury of mine eye; | |
| Said I, in scorn all burning hot, | |
| In rage and auger high, | |
| “You ignominious idiot! | |
| Those wings are made to fly!” | 30 |
| |
| “I do not want to fly,” said he, | |
| “I only want to squirm!” | |
| And he drooped his wings dejectedly, | |
| But still his voice was firm: | |
| “I do not want to be a fly! | 35 |
| I want to be a worm!” | |
| |
| O yesterday of unknown lack! | |
| To-day of unknown bliss! | |
| I left my fool in red and black, | |
| The last I saw was this,— | 40 |
| The creature madly climbing back | |
| Into his chrysalis. | |
| |
