William Wordsworth-
To A Butterfly
Stay near me-do not take thy flight!
A little longer stay insught!
Much converse do I find in thee,
Historian of my unfancy.
Float near me! Do not yet depart!
Dead times revive in thee:
Thou bring'st, gay craeture as thou art.
A solemn image to my heart,
My father's family.
Oh pleasant, pleasant were the days,
The time, when in our childish plays,
My sister Emmeline and I
Together chased a butterfly!
A very hunter did I rush
Upon the prey;- with leaps and springs
I followed on from brake to bush;
But she, God love her, feared to brush
The dust off its wings.