"Ho!" said the Butterfly, "here am I,
Up in the air, who used to lie
Flat on the ground, for the passers by
To treat with utter neglect!
But none will suspect that I am the same;
With a bright, new coat, and a different name;
The piece of nothingness whence I came
In me they'll never detect.
"That horrible night in the chrysalis,
Which brought me at length to a day like this,
In a form of beauty—a state of bliss,
Was little enough to give
For freedom to range from bower to bower,
To flirt with the buds, and flatter the flower,
And bask in the sunbeams hour by hour,
The envy of all that live.
"Why, this is a world of curious things,
Where those who crawl, and those that have wings,
Are ranked in the classes of beggars, and kings,
No matter how much the worth
May be on the side of those who creep,
Where the vain, the light, and the bold will sweep,
Others from notice, and proudly keep
Uppermost on the earth!
"Many a one that has loathed the sight
Of the piteous worm, will take delight
In welcoming me, as I look so bright
In my new and beautiful dress.
But some I shall pass with a scornful glance,
Some, with an elegant nonchalance;
And others will woo me, till I advance
To give them a slight caress."
"Ha, ha!" said the Pin, "you are just the one
Through which I'm commissioned, at once, to run
From back to breast, till, your fluttering done,
Your form may be fairly shown.
And when my point shall have reached your heart,
'T will be as a balm to the wounded part,
To think how you're to be copied by art,
And your beauty will all be known!"