A BUTTERFLY

A butterfly hovered over a flower, In a bower, With the joy of life at his lips for an hour. With the rose's petals against his wings, And the rose's perfume that steals and clings Touching every breath with a wondrous power.

Then the Night came on, and the wind blew cold O'er the wold. The butterfly shivered, grown tired and old; The rose closed her passionate eyes and slept, While death to her lover in silence crept; He died of a joy untold.