From Cocoon forth a Butterfly
As Lady from her Door
Emerged-a Summer Afternoon-
Repairing Everywhere-

Without Design-that I could trace
Except to stray abroad
On Miscellaneous Enterprise
The Clovers-understood-

Her pretty Parasol be seen
Contracting in a Field
Where Men made Hay-
Then struggling hard
With an opposing Cloud-

Where Parties-Phantom as Herself-
To Nowhere-seemed to go
In purposeless Circumference-
As 'twere a Tropic Show-

And notwithstanding Bee-that worked-
And Flower-that zealous blew-
This Audience of Idleness
Disdained them, from the Sky-

Till Sundown crept-a steady Tide-
And Men that made the Hay-
And Afternoon-and Butterfly-
Extinguished-in the Sea-