Classic Poem

A butterfly, from chrysalis emerged,
To soar into the atmosphere was urged,
But would not try. “I am a worm,” she cried,
And thus she crawled, a grub until she died.

Oh! Psyche is not Psyche till she flings
The earth away beneath her flaming wings,
Or soars into the common, crowded mart
In mystic veils and halo hues of Art.