Poor harmless insect, thither fly,
And life's short hour enjoy;
'Tis all thou hast, and why should I
That little all destroy?

Why should my tyrant will suspend
A life by wisdom giv'n,
Or sooner bid thy being end
Than was designed by Heav'n?

To bask upon the sunny bed,
The damask flowers to kiss,
To range along the bending shade
Is all thy life of bliss.

Then flutter still thy silken wings,
In rich embroidery drest,
And sport upon the gale that flings
Sweet odors from his vest.
JANE TAYLOR.