The Mariposa Lily

Insect or blossom? Fragile, fairy thing, Poised upon slender tip, and quivering To flight! a flower of the fields of air; A jewelled moth; a butterfly, with rare And tender tints upon his downy wing, A moment resting in our happy sight; A flower held captive by a thread so slight Its petal-wings of broidered gossamer Are, light as the wind, with every wind astir,— Wafting sweet odor, faint and exquisite. O dainty nursling of the field and sky, What fairer thing looks up to heaven’s blue And drinks the noontide sun, the dawning’s dew? Thou wingëd bloom! thou blossom-butterfly!