To A Butterfly (1801)

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.

A guardian strong, in a world of wonder. Trunk wide, safe – where we belong.

Wiliam Wordsworth 1770 – 1850 / England

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