("Roses et Papillons.")
{XXVII., Dec. 7, 1834.}

The grave receives us all:
Ye butterflies and roses gay and sweet
Why do ye linger, say?
Will ye not dwell together as is meet?
Somewhere high in the air
Would thy wing seek a home 'mid sunny skies,
In mead or mossy dell—
If there thy odors longest, sweetest rise.

Have where ye will your dwelling,
Or breath or tint whose praise we sing;
Butterfly shining bright,
Full-blown or bursting rosebud, flow'r or wing.
Dwell together ye fair,
'Tis a boon to the loveliest given;
Perchance ye then may choose your home
On the earth or in heaven.

W.C. WESTBROOK

A SIMILE.

("Soyez comme l'oiseau.")
{XXXIII. vi.}

Thou art like the bird
That alights and sings
Though the frail spray bends—
For he knows he has wings.

FANNY KEMBLE (BUTLER)