The Butterfly

The butterfly from flower to flower  
 The urchin chas’d; and, when at last  
He caught it in my lady’s bower,  
 He cried, “Ha, ha!” and held it fast.  
 
Awhile he laugh’d, but soon he wept,        
 When looking at the prize he’d caught  
He found he had to ruin swept  
 The very glory he had sought