Classic Poem

The shades of night had scarcely fled,
The air was soft, the winds were still;
And slow the slanting sunbeams spread,
O'er wood and lawn, o'er heath and hill;

From floating clouds of pearly hue,
Had dropt a short but balmy shower,
That hung like gems of morning dew,
On every tree and every flower;

And from the blackbird's mellow throat,
Was pour'd so long and loud a swell,
As echoed with responsive note,
From mountain side and shadowy dell;

When bursting forth from light and life,
The offspring of enraptured May,
The Butterfly, on pinions bright,
Launch'd in full splendor on the day.

Unconscious of a mother's care,
No infant wretchedness she knew;
But as she felt the vernal air,
At once to full perfection grew.

Her slender form, etherial light,
Her velvet-textur'd wings enfold,
With all the rainbow's colours bright,
And dropt with spots of burnish'd gold.

Trembling with joy, awhile she stood,
And felt the sun's enlivening ray;
Drank from the skies the vital flood,
And wondered aTher plumage gay.

And balanced ofTher broider'd wings,
Thro' fields of air prepared to sail;
Then on her venturous journey springs,
And floats along the rising gale.

Go, child of pleasure, range the fields;
Share all the joys that Spring can give;
Partake what bounteous Summer yields,
And live, while yet 'tis thine to live!

Go, sip the rose's fragrant dew,
The lily's honey'd cup explore;
From flower to flower the search renew,
And rifle all the woodbine's store!

And let me trace thy vagrant flight,
Thy moments too of short repose;
And mark thee then, with fresh delight,
Thy golden pinions ope and close.

But, hark! whilst thus I musing stand,
Swells on the gale an airy note;
And, breathing from a viewless band,
Soft silvery tones around me float.

They cease — but still a voice I hear —
A whisper'd voice of hope and joy! —
" Thy hour of rest approaches near;
" Prepare thee, mortal, thou must die!

" Yet start not — on thy closing eyes
" Another day shall still unfold;
" A sun of milder radiance rise,
" A happier age of joys untold.

" Shall the poor worm that shocks thy sight,
" The humblest form in Nature's train,
" Thus rise in newborn lustre bright,
" And yet the emblem teach in vain.

" Ah! where were once her golden eyes,
" Her beauteous wings of purple pride?
" Concealed beneath a rude disguise,
" A shapeless mass, to earth allied.

" Like thee the hapless reptile lived;
" Like thee he toiled, like thee he spun;
" Like thine his closing hour arrived,
" His labours ceased, his web was done.

" And shalt thou, number'd with the dead,
" No happier state of being know;
" And shall no future morrow shed
" On thee a beam of brighter glow?

" Is this the bound of power divine,
" To animate an insect frame;
" Or shall noThe who moulded thine,
" Wake at his will the vital flame?

" Go, mortal, in thy reptile state,
" Enough to know to thee is given;
" Go, and the joyful truth repeat —
" Frail child of earth — High heir of heaven.

The shades of night had scarcely fled,
The air was soft, the winds were still;
And slow the slanting sunbeams spread,
O'er wood and lawn, o'er heath and hill;

From floating clouds of pearly hue,
Had dropt a short but balmy shower,
That hung like gems of morning dew,
On every tree and every flower;

And from the blackbird's mellow throat,
Was pour'd so long and loud a swell,
As echoed with responsive note,
From mountain side and shadowy dell;

When bursting forth from light and life,
The offspring of enraptured May,
The Butterfly, on pinions bright,
Launch'd in full splendor on the day.

Unconscious of a mother's care,
No infant wretchedness she knew;
But as she felt the vernal air,
At once to full perfection grew.

Her slender form, etherial light,
Her velvet-textur'd wings enfold,
With all the rainbow's colours bright,
And dropt with spots of burnish'd gold.

Trembling with joy, awhile she stood,
And felt the sun's enlivening ray;
Drank from the skies the vital flood,
And wondered aTher plumage gay.

And balanced ofTher broider'd wings,
Thro' fields of air prepared to sail;
Then on her venturous journey springs,
And floats along the rising gale.

Go, child of pleasure, range the fields;
Share all the joys that Spring can give;
Partake what bounteous Summer yields,
And live, while yet 'tis thine to live!

Go, sip the rose's fragrant dew,
The lily's honey'd cup explore;
From flower to flower the search renew,
And rifle all the woodbine's store!

And let me trace thy vagrant flight,
Thy moments too of short repose;
And mark thee then, with fresh delight,
Thy golden pinions ope and close.

But, hark! whilst thus I musing stand,
Swells on the gale an airy note;
And, breathing from a viewless band,
Soft silvery tones around me float.

They cease — but still a voice I hear —
A whisper'd voice of hope and joy! —
" Thy hour of rest approaches near;
" Prepare thee, mortal, thou must die!

" Yet start not — on thy closing eyes
" Another day shall still unfold;
" A sun of milder radiance rise,
" A happier age of joys untold.

" Shall the poor worm that shocks thy sight,
" The humblest form in Nature's train,
" Thus rise in newborn lustre bright,
" And yet the emblem teach in vain.

" Ah! where were once her golden eyes,
" Her beauteous wings of purple pride?
" Concealed beneath a rude disguise,
" A shapeless mass, to earth allied.

" Like thee the hapless reptile lived;
" Like thee he toiled, like thee he spun;
" Like thine his closing hour arrived,
" His labours ceased, his web was done.

" And shalt thou, number'd with the dead,
" No happier state of being know;
" And shall no future morrow shed
" On thee a beam of brighter glow?

" Is this the bound of power divine,
" To animate an insect frame;
" Or shall noThe who moulded thine,
" Wake at his will the vital flame?

" Go, mortal, in thy reptile state,
" Enough to know to thee is given;
" Go, and the joyful truth repeat —
" Frail child of earth — High heir of heaven.