~TO A BUTTERFLY~

William Wordsworth

I've watch 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 wing when they are weary;
Her lodge as in a sanctuary!
Come often to us, fear no wrong;
Sit near us on the bouth!
We'll talk of sunshine and of song,
And summer days, when we are young;
Sweet childish days, that were as long
As twenty days are now.