Butterfly

A butterfly lit on a leaf And drank the Sacred Dew That there had gathered in the dark While yet the day was new. Atop the blessed Iva tree From which the dewdrops fell Condensed from rivers and the sea, He humbly drank his fill He stayed there till the night came on And the tree stirred. In its breast Awoke the sleepy willow song As she wakened from her rest At this, the butterfly arose And flew into the night She fell back into sweet repose And he vanished out of sight O! Butterflies and gentle birds Who pluck the sacred herb So gently visit the Iva tree Do not that queen disturb And you may hear at eventide The blessing of her song That rings against the valley's side Throughout the evening long.