BUTTERFLIES. 187 



Unconscious of a mother's care, 



No infant wretchedness it knew ; 



But, as she felt the vernal air, 



At once to full perfection grew. 



Her slender form, etherial, light, 



Her velvet textur'd wings unfold. 



With all the rainbow's colours bright, 



And dropt with spots of burnish'd gold. 



Trembling awhile, with joy she stood, 

 And felt the sun's enliv'ning ray. 



Drank from the skies the vital flood, 

 And wonder'd at her plumage gay. 



And balanc'd oft her broidered wings, 



Thro' fields of air prepar'd to sail ; 

 Then on her vent'rous journey springs. 

 And floats along the rising gale- 

 Go child of pleasure, range the fields- 

 Taste all the joys that Spring can give- 

 Partake what bounteous Summer yields, 

 And live, while yet 'tis thine to live. 



Go sip the rose's fragrant dew — 



The lily's honey'd cup explore — 



From flower to flower the search renew, 

 And rifle all the woodbine's store. 



And let me trace thy vagrant flight. 



Thy moments, too, of short repose : 



And mark thee, when, with fresh delight^ 

 Thy golden pinions ope and close. 



