Butterfly
A butterfly lit on a leaf
And drank the Sacred Dew
That there had gathered in the dark
While yet the day was new.
Atop the blessed Iva tree
From which the dewdrops fell
Condensed from rivers and the sea,
He humbly drank his fill
He stayed there till the night came on
And the tree stirred. In its breast
Awoke the sleepy willow song
As she wakened from her rest
At this, the butterfly arose
And flew into the night
She fell back into sweet repose
And he vanished out of sight
O! Butterflies and gentle birds
Who pluck the sacred herb
So gently visit the Iva tree
Do not that queen disturb
And you may hear at eventide
The blessing of her song
That rings against the valley's side
Throughout the evening long.
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