Little Men — Chapter 17

Louisa May Alcott (1832–1888)

"I write about the butterfly,It is a pretty thing;And flies about like the birds,But it does not sing.

"First it is a little grub,And then it is a nice yellow cocoon,And then the butterflyEats its way out soon.

"They live on dew and honey,They do not have any hive,They do not sting like wasps, and bees, and hornets,And to be as good as they are we should strive.

"I should like to be a beautiful butterfly,All yellow, and blue, and green, and red;But I should not likeTo have Dan put camphor on my poor little head."

"I wish I had a quiet tomb,Beside a little rill;Where birds, and bees, and butterflies,Would sing upon the hill."

"Little drops of water,Little drains of sand,Mate a mighty okum (ocean),And a peasant land.Little worts of kindness,Pokin evvy day,Make a home a hebbin,And hep us on a way."