Classic Poem

Along a grassy bank a peacock strode;
Below him lay a soft and sunny meadow;
Above him shook the leaflets of the wood;
And all around was draped in cooling shadow.

Gay plumage decked his smooth and shapely sides;
His crest with all a rainbow's wealth was glowing;
And as he moved along with stately strides,
His train with blue-gold orbs seemed overflowing.

Far over brightening hill and shady dale
An idle butterfly his way was winging,
Now loitering by the lilies of the vale,
Now in the fields 'mid drowsy locust-singing.

Each ruddier blossom caught his wandering eye;
Each sweeter flower-cup lured his wings astraying;
This way and that the giddy pinions ply,
Heedless of all save silly glee and playing.

At last he viewed the peacock's airy crest
In zephyrs swaying with a tremulous motion,
Like thistle-down that shades the sparrow's nest,
Or light mist rising from a troubled ocean.

“Aha!” thought he, “at last I've found a prize,
A rare rich prize, a wealth of honeyed treasure;
Such flower as this has never met my eyes.”
And down he wavered, all aglow with pleasure.

The peacock glancing, thoughtless, overhead,
Beheld the flake of downward fluttering glory
With splendid wings of gold and blue outspread,
Wondered and pecked—and ended thus my story.

Reader, beware, lest in the vain pursuit
Of every fleeting aim and fickle fancy
The little-pondered act bear bitter fruit
Of danger, hid by heaven's high necromancy.

Beware, there's death within the blossom gay;
Beware, your touch may cause another's sorrow;
And he who has the peacock's part to-day
May have the butterfly's before to-morrow.