From the Chrysalis

My cocoon tightens, colors tease,I'm feeling for the air;A dim capacity for wingsDegrades the dress I wear.

A power of butterfly must beThe aptitude to fly,Meadows of majesty concedesAnd easy sweeps of sky.

So I must baffle at the hintAnd cipher at the sign,And make much blunder, if at lastI take the clew divine.