The helpless, crawling caterpillar trace 

 From the first period of his reptile race. 

 Clothed in dishonour, on the leafy spray 

 Unseen he wears his silent hours away ; 

 Till, satiate grown of all that life supplies, 

 Self taught, the voluntary martyr dies. 

 Deep under earth his darkling course he hends, 

 And to the tomb a willing guest descends ; 

 There, long secluded in his lonely cell, 

 Forgets the sun, and bids the world farewell. 



O'er the wide wastes the wintry tempests reign, 

 And driving snows usurp the frozen plain : 

 In vain the tempest beats, the whirlwind blows ; 

 No storms can violate his grave's repose. 



But when revolving months have won their way. 

 When smile the woods, and when the zephyrs play, 

 When laughs the vivid world in summer's bloom, 

 He bursts, and flies triumphant from the tomb ; 

 And while his new-born beauties he displays. 

 With conscious joy his altered form surveys. 

 Mark, while he moves amid the sunny beam. 

 O'er his soft wings the varying lustres gleam. 

 Launched into air, on purple plumes he soars, 

 Gay Nature's face with wanton glance explores ; 

 Proud of his varying beauties, wings his way. 

 And spoils the fairest flowers, himself more fair than they. 



Anon. 



