The Butterfly's Message

 The Butterfly's Message by Reho

I found a poor butterfly under a tree,
So crushed and so injured
'Twas painful to see;
No bright pretty colors all over its wings,
And never again the sweet message it brings,
Of 'Spring, happy Spring,' shall be borne on the 
air,
For slowly 'twas dying midst all things so fair.

I lifted it tenderly up from the ground,

The dainty wings broken,

I very soon found

A sad little flutter. No more it will rise

Or float in its beauty toward the blue skies.

The thing we call life had escaped from my

hand,

A something so wondrous I can't understand.

Then wrapt in a fern-leaf, beneath moss and 

flowers.

I put it quite safely,

Where soft summer showers

Will whisper the violet how it has died;

And primrose and snowdrop shall bloom by its

side.

Repeating the message of 'Spring, happy Spring,'

That all the bright butterflies bear on their

wing.