When summer sweetness fills the air,
And butterflies flit everywhere
On tireless wings,
What perfect colour schemes are ours,
In all the painted wings and flowers
That summer brings!
But on this February day,
As up Malting Lane I made my way
To reach Toms Hill,
No petals decked the muddy bank-
Just ivy leaves and herbage rank,
And all was still.
A sombre colour scheme today!-
A hundred shades of brown and grey
And withered green,
And, up among the hazels high,
The ragged, jagged bits of sky
Through branches seen-
Then something flitted past my eye!-
A hibernated butterfly
In coat so gay!-
Against the tints of dusky hue
He filled the lane with colour new,
And danced away.
Though I’ve seen Brimstones by the score,
I never realized before
I met this fellow
How such a wintry, dull-hued spot
Could be transformed by just one dot
Of lemon yellow!