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lO THE BUTTERFLY. 
Besides, my thoughts fly far, and when at rest, 
Love, not a watch-tower, but a lulling nest. 
But all the ground I had should keep a look 
Of Nature still; have birds’-nests and a brook; 
Ont spot for flowers, the rest all turf and trees, 
For I’d not grow my own bad lettuces. 
Pd build a walk, however, against rain, 
Long, peradventure, as my whole domain; 
And so be sure of generous exercise, 
The youth of age, and medicine of the wise. 
Rogers. 
C HILD of the Sun ! pursue thy rapturous flight, 
Mingling with her thou lov’st in fields of light; 
And where the flowers of Paradise unfold, 
Quaff fragrant nectar from their cups of gold. 
There shall thy wings, rich as an evening sky, 
Expand and shut, with silent ecstasy ! 
Yet wert thou once a worm ; a thing that crept 
On the bare earth, then wrought a tomb and slept. 
And such is man ; soon from his cell of clay 
To burst, a seraph in the blaze of day. 
