quote · Legacy record
The garden beds I wandered by One bright and cheerful morn, When I found a new-fledged butterfly, A-sitting on a thorn, A black and crimson butterfly, All doleful and forlorn. I thought that life could have no sting To infant butterflies, So I gazed on this unhappy thing With wonder and surprise, While sadly with his waving wing He wiped his weeping eyes. Said I, “What can the matter be? Why weepest thou so sore, With garden fair and sunlight free And flowers in goodly store?”— But he only turned away from me And burst into a roar. Cried he, “My legs are thin and few Where once I had a swarm! Soft fuzzy fur—a joy to view— Once kept my body warm, Before these flapping wing-things grew, To hamper and deform!” At that outrageous bug I shot The fury of mine eye; Said I, in scorn all burning hot, In rage and anger high, “You ignominious idiot! Those wings are made to fly!” “I do not want to fly,” said he, “I only want to squirm!” And he dropped his wings dejectedly, But still his voice was firm: “I do not want to be a fly! I want to be a worm!” O yesterday of unknown lack! To-day of unknown bliss! I left my fool in red and black, The last I saw was this,— The creature madly climbing back Into his chrysalis.
The garden beds I wandered by One bright and cheerful morn, When I found a new-fledged butterfly, A-sitting on a thorn, A black and crimson butterfly, All doleful and forlorn. I thought that life could have no sting To infant butterflies, So I gazed on this unhappy thing With wonder and surprise, While sadly with his waving wing He wiped his weeping eyes. Said I, “What can the matter be? Why weepest thou so sore, With garden fair and sunlight free And flowers in goodly store?”— But he only turned away from me And burst into a roar. Cried he, “My legs are thin and few Where once I had a swarm! Soft fuzzy fur—a joy to view— Once kept my body warm, Before these flapping wing-things grew, To hamper and deform!” At that outrageous bug I shot The fury of mine eye; Said I, in scorn all burning hot, In rage and anger high, “You ignominious idiot! Those wings are made to fly!” “I do not want to fly,” said he, “I only want to squirm!” And he dropped his wings dejectedly, But still his voice was firm: “I do not want to be a fly! I want to be a worm!” O yesterday of unknown lack! To-day of unknown bliss! I left my fool in red and black, The last I saw was this,— The creature madly climbing back Into his chrysalis.
In print by 1921 AD · modern
Recorded in a printed collection by this date; the original date of these words is still unknown.
Meaning not yet available
An individual explanation has not yet been added. We do not substitute a generic description for an interpretation of these particular words.
Begin with source-checked readings and explanations ↗Attribution & collection notes
- Author or tradition
- Charlotte Perkins Stetson (identity unresolved)
Attribution: unknown - Country attributed
- Not established
A country attribution does not establish the earliest origin. - Historical period
- In print by 1921 AD · modern
In print by 1921: recorded in My Commonplace Book (third English edition,1921). Collection publication is an upper bound for this wording, not its earliest origin, composition date or the author's lifetime.
An author lifetime, approximate period or collection date is not necessarily the date when these words were first written or spoken. - Recorded source
- My Commonplace Book (third English edition,1921) (1921 AD)
Page 261 · printed citation: Charlotte Perkins Stetson. · compiler notes excluded
A collection's publication date can be later than the words it records.