The Butterfly

THE Butterfly, an idle thing,
Nor honey makes, nor yet can sing,
As do the bee and bird;
Nor does it, like the prudent ant,
Lay up the grain for times of want,
A wise and cautious hoard.

My youth is but a summer's day:
Then like the bee and ant I'll lay
A store of learning by;
And though from flower to flower I rove,
My stock of wisdom I'll improve
Nor be a butterfly.

by Ann Taylor

Comments (3)

wonderful poem
Amazing poem,it is so interesting that I have read this poem 💯 times n i want to read more
And though from flower to flower I rove, My stock of wisdom I will improve Not be a butterfly. Beautiful and meaningful inference. Thanks for sharing.10 points.