Display thy richly-gilded wings
At least before the children's eyes,
And in their pastimes them surprise,
Wheeling around in glittering rings.
Soon shall they follow thee in chase,
With shouts—'̕̕'Tis here—'tis there—'tis gone!'
From flower to flower allure them on,
Until thou lead'st them to this place.
Their mother then will surely come,
Their sad companion while they play;
Attract them with thy movements gay,
And cheer them all the way from home.
Ah me! what hopes unconscious start!
They come—they come—away my fears!
Who knows but childhood's tender tears
May melt the gaoler's iron heart?
Yes—to the faithful, faithful bride,
The tender husband shall be given,
The bars asunder shall be riven,
The brazen gates stand open wide.
But ah, great Lord! what do I say?
This clanking chain dispels my dream,
The butterfly—was but a gleam,
Behold,—it flutters far away!
G.
