Newcomers

And lo! the lark springs from the land;

He sees a ladder to Heaven’s gate,

And, step by step, without abate,

He mounts it singing, back and forth;

Till twenty steps or more from earth,

On his return, then without sound

He jumps, and stone-like drops to ground.

And here are butterflies: poor things

Amazed with new-created wings;

They in the air-waves roll distrest

Like ships at sea; and when they rest

They cannot help but ope and close

Their wings, like babies with their toes.