Читать книгу Pages for Laughing Eyes - Unknown - Страница 7

A butterfly poised on a wild-rose spray,

As a child tripped by one summer day,

And he thought: "How sorrowful she must be

To know she can never have wings like me!"

But the child passed on, with a careless eye

Of the gay-winged, proud, young butterfly,

While he fluttered about, as butterflies will,

Sipping of honey and dew his fill.

The butterfly spread his wings to the sky,

As the sweet-faced child again tripped by,

And he thought: "How envious she will be

My beautiful azure wings to see!"

But the child passed, with a lightsome heart,

Where never had lodged a poisonous dart,

While he fluttered about, as butterflies will,

Sipping of honey and dew his fill.

When the child again passed the wild-rose sweet,

A bit of azure fell at her feet;

She lifted it from the moss, and said:—

"Poor little butterfly, it is dead!"

Then she tossed it up towards the wild-rose spray,

And, singing merrily, went her way,

With never a thought, the summer through,

Of the butterfly and its wings of blue.