MY little Madchen found one day A curious something in her play, That was not fruit, nor flower, nor seed; It was not anything that grew, Or crept, or climbed, or swam, or flew; Had neither legs nor wings, indeed; And yet she was not sure, she said, Whether it was alive or dead. She brought it in her tiny hand To see if I would understand, And wondered when I made reply, "You've found a baby butterfly." "A butterfly is not like this," With doubtful look she answered me. So then I told her what would be Some day within the chrysalis; How, slowly, in the dull brown thing Now still as death, a spotted wing, And then another, would unfold, Till from the empty shell would fly A pretty creature, by and by, All radiant in blue and gold. "And will it, truly?" questioned she -- Her laughing lips and eager eyes All in a sparkle of surprise -- "And shall your little Madchen see?" "She shall!" I said. How could I tell That ere the worm within its shell Its gauzy, splendid wings had spread, My little Madchen would be dead? To-day the butterfly has flown, -- She was not here to see it fly, -- And sorrowing I wonder why The empty shell is mine alone. Perhaps the secret lies in this: I too had found a chrysalis, And Death that robbed me of delight Was but the radiant creature's flight! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WOMEN AND ROSES by ROBERT BROWNING THE BRITISH CHURCH by GEORGE HERBERT THE SHEPHEARDES CALENDER: NOVEMBER by EDMUND SPENSER TO A YOUNG LADY; WHO ... REPROACHED FOR TAKING LONG WALKS IN COUNTRY by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH THE ALBATROSS by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE ON A YOUNG POETESS'S GRAVE by ROBERT WILLIAMS BUCHANAN |