To a butterfly

To a Butterfly by William Wordsworth

          I've watched you now a full half-hour;
          Self-poised upon that yellow flower
          And, little Butterfly! indeed
          I know not if you sleep or feed.
          How motionless!--not frozen seas
          More motionless! and then
          What joy awaits you, when the breeze
          Hath found you out among the trees,
          And calls you forth again!

          This plot of orchard-ground is ours; 

          My trees they are, my Sister's flowers;
          Here rest your wings when they are weary;
          Here lodge as in a sanctuary!
          Come often to us, fear no wrong;
          Sit near us on the bough!
          We'll talk of sunshine and of song,
          And summer days, when we were young;
          Sweet childish days, that were as long
          As twenty days are now.