Tuesday, April 10, 2007

To A Butterfly

Stay near me--do not take thy flight!
A little longer stay in sight!
Much converse do I find in Thee,
Historian of my Infancy!
Float near me; do not yet depart!
Dead times revive in thee:
Thou bring'st, gay Creature as thou art!
A solemn image to my heart,
My Father's Family!

Oh! pleasant, pleasant were the days,
The time, when in our childish plays
My sister Emmeline and I
Together chaced the Butterfly!
A very hunter did I rush
Upon the prey:--with leaps and springs
I follow'd on from brake to bush;
But She, God love her! feared to brush
The dust from off its wings.


My heart leaps up when I behold
          A Rainbow in the sky:
So was it when my life began;
So is it now I am a Man;
So be it when I shall grow old,
          Or let me die!
The Child is Father of the Man;
And I could wish my days to be
Bound each to each by natural piety.

-- By William Wordsworth

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