Metamorphosis of Insects. 57 



First an egg, then a caterpillar, then a motion- 

 less, mummy-like form, then a winged creature. 



From lowly earth forms it rises to a condition 

 which almost transcends physical existence. It 

 has cast off the implements of its lower life ; the 

 clumsy feet, where are they? the horny jaws? 

 there is no trace left, — delicate are the organs 

 with which it walks over the flowers ; gone is the 

 ugly mouth with its cutting and grinding parts ; 

 instead, a long and thread-like tube is coiled up 

 like a watch-spring, to be uncoiled and daintily 

 thrust into flower depths to draw forth nectar. For 

 a few brief hours it is one with joy and light and 

 beauty. It can leave the earth, it can drink the 

 honey of flowers. 



Its old work-a-day life is forgotten ; it is more a 

 spirit than a body. 



And this resplendent form, this winged beauty, 

 is its vestment of love. 



The great passion animates it only in this form. 



It has blossomed into love, and through love 

 passes on to the other great transformation — 

 death. 



Love is the climax of its life ; its fate is to live 

 and love for a brief season in joyous unconcern, 

 sipping honey from the flowers, glinting the sun- 

 light from its resplendent scales. 



And may not a few hours of this life be worth 

 untold ages of creeping in the dust, of lying insen- 

 sate in the earth? 



