Classic Poem

Through its brown and withered bulb
How the white germ felt the sun
In the dark mould gently stirring
His spring children one by one!

Thrilled with heat, it split the husk,
Shot a green blade up to light,
And unfurled its orange petals
In the old enchanter's sight.

One step more and it had floated
On the palpitating noon
Winged and free, a butterfly
Soaring from the rent cocoon.

But it could not leave its earth,
And the May-dew's tender tears,—
So it wavers there forever
'Twixt the green and azure spheres.