380 POEMS 
ODE TO A BUTTERFLY 
TuHou spark of life that wavest wings of gold, 
Thou songless wanderer ’mid the songful birds, 
With Nature’s secrets in thy tints unrolled 
Through gorgeous cipher, past the reach of 
words, 
Yet dear to every child 
In glad pursuit beguiled, 
Living his unspoiled days ’mid flowers and 
flocks and herds ! 
Thou wingéd blossom, liberated thing, 
What secret tie binds thee to other flowers, 
Still held within the garden's fostering ? 
Will they too soar with the completed hours, 
Take flight, and be like thee 
Irrevocably free, 
Hovering at will o’er their parental bowers? 
Or is thy lustre drawn from heavenly hues, — 
A sumptuous drifting fragment of the sky, 
Caught when the sunset its last glance imbues 
With sudden splendor, and the treetops high 
Grasp that swift blazonry, 
Then lend those tints to thee, 
On thee to float a few short hours, and die? 
