(From The Oriental)

Upon the temple dome Of Solomon the wise There paused, returning home, A pair of butterflies.

He did the quite blasé (Did it rather badly), Wherefore--need I say?-- She adored him madly.

Enthusiasm she Did not attempt to curb: “Goodness gracious me! Isn’t this superb!”

He vouchsafed a smile To indulge her whimsy, Surveyed the lofty pile, And drawled, “Not bad--but flimsy.”

“Appearances, though fine, Lead to false deduction; This temple, I opine, Is shaky in construction.

“Think of it, my dear. All this glittering show Would crumble--disappear-- Should I but stamp my toe!

“If I should stamp--like this--” His wife cried, “Heavens! don’t!” He answered, with a kiss, “Very well; I won’t.”

Now, every blessed word Said by these butterflies, It chanced, was overheard By Solomon the wise.

He called in angry tone, And bade a Djinn to hie And summon to his throne That boastful butterfly.

The butterfly flew down Upon reluctant wing. Cried Solomon, with a frown, “How dared you say this thing?

“How dared you, fly, invent Such blasphemy as this is?” “Oh, king, I only meant To terrify the missis.”

The insect was so scared The king could scarce restrain A smile. “Begone! you’re spared; But don’t do it again!”

So spake King Solomon. The butterflew away. His wife to meet him ran: “Oh, dear, what did he say?”

The butterfly had here A chance to shine, and knew it. Said he: “The king, my dear, Implored me not to do it!”