["The Robin and the Butterfly"]

The Robin and the Butterfly.
   —""—
 is perched in
A Robin sits in a sycamore tree
Feeding her little ones timeorously
For a butterfly waits in a gravelly walk
Observing the bird with the eye of a hawk
 poising
He is  waving his wings on their edges thin
Unattractive without but gaudy within
Rather dull on the outside
As they open and shut on their fanciful tints
Like a specimen-book full of calico prints
Now, the robin is fearful to venture on high
For she dreads the attentions of beau butterfly
How provoking! She always is thrown from her track
 horrible
By this troublesome calico man at her back.
Tis true, Madam Robin,—a troublesome beau
'Tis true he's a rather officious beau;
But this butterfly once was a worm, you know
Who has many a friend in wormdom left
 its
By thee and thine of  their kin bereft
And he sits in his native gravelly home
 To show you 
That you'll know from whence the avenger must come
 previous
That the field of his former helpless shame
May become the field of his glory and fame.
 of a
I know a Robin who robbeth the poor—
There's many a Robin and many a Ben
Who eats more victuals than worthier men
Who spends his days in robbin' the poor —
No better a Robin than this one, I'm sure.