'Tis like a butterfly, this my happiness,
Sitting yonder on that white violet's head,
I cannot hold it in my hand,
My touch would surely leave it dead.
I dare not show it off to my friends,
It would wickedly, tempt the fates,
I must stay my hand, and watch, resentful,
For the blooming nectar he does taste.
I must not charge and try to net it,
To flourish, he must remain free, and easy,
I am resigned to watch it flit,
He flutters near, just to tease me.
For happiness to thrive, he must unfettered be,
Only true love, can have this feeling bettered be.
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