THE BUTTERFLY.
Thou dweller of the ethereal plain,
Beloved and brilliant butterfly!
How in this dungeon, where I sigh,
Couldst thou admittance gain?
Scarce ever on these frightful walls,
Across the bars, one ray of light
Steals to dispel the long, long night
That in its cheerlessness appals.
Hast thou from Nature, wise and great,
Received a heart to friendship prone?
By pity hither art thou drawn
To share the sorrows of my fate?
Thy very presence charms my pain,
No longer bleeds the wound that bled:
The hope extinct, or all but dead,
Is brought by thee to life again.
Sweet ornament on Nature's sheen!
Recall her loveliness to me,
And speak, oh speak of liberty,
Of waters, flowers, and foliage green;
Speak of the torrent's dreadful voice,
Of lakes profound, of cooling shades,
And of the murmur in the glades,
When winds 'mid dripping leaves rejoice.
