The Butterfly and the Rose
by George Albert Leddy
The Butterfly lit on the Rose one day, and in butterfly talk I heard him say:
"You’re a beautiful thing, I can’t deny,
But neery a bit more fair than I.
You have a fragrance, rare and sweet;
Your petal-form, are most complete.
You are a treasure, rich and rare,
When you adorn my lady’s hair.
"Brilliant colors adorn your bed;
White and yellow, crimson and red;
Background of green decked with diamonds of dew,
To set-out your colors, and brighten their hue.
You bring joy to the bride on the day she is wed;
Lighten the sorrow when they bury their dead;
You brighten the church, the home, and the school;
But underneath all are your thorns sharp and cruel.
"Now me, I am proud, and I feel I’m as fine;
Though, they don’t honor me same as you.
But you’ll find, if you look, that I’m really streamlined;
And colors a real brilliant hue.
My wings are as light as the thistles’ soft down,
As I float on the warm summer’s breeze.
I don’t have to stay in the same place all day;
I’m as free as the birds and the bees.”
Then a voice, I can hear; It is soft, low, and clear:
"Don’t be jealous of me, Butterfly.
I am proud as you say, and I’m happy today;
But tomorrow, I wither and die.
Why, the silver and gold, that your wings do unfold
Has brought joy to my short summer days;
So stay close to me here, promise always be near;
And bring me sweet joys with your ways.”
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