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 wing 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.
--------
It was really nice out on Thursday, sunny and not too hot, so it was just as well I had chores that had to be done out of the house, because it gave me an excuse to spend two hours walking in the park. The in-house chores are hopeless this week but hopefully tomorrow the repairs will be conclusively FINISHED, as they are supposed to be, and then I can spend five days putting our sons' rooms back together before the younger one graduates and the older one arrives for a visit.
You may have noticed that I'm not talking about politics: that's because all I can do is scream, and my focused energy has gone to writing letters to people who can actually do things. None of you need me to post a meme to know my position on reproductive rights! We watched the finale of The Big Bang Theory, which was sweet, then we caught up on Gentleman Jack, which was great, and Billions, which was mean. Lewis Ginter Botanical Gardens butterflies:
No comments:
Post a Comment