A Butterfly In Wall Street Poem by Frank Dempster Sherman

Winged wanderer from clover meadows sweet,
Where all day long beneath a smiling sky
You drained the wild-flowers' cups of honey dry
And heard the drowsy winds their loves repeat,
What idle zephyr whispering deceit
Has won your heart and tempted you to fly
Unto this noisy town and vainly pry
Into the secrets of this busy street?

To me your unexpected presence brings
A thought of fragrant pastures, buds and flowers,
And sleepy brooks, and cattle in the fold;
Or, watching as you soar on trembling wings,
I think for those who toil through weary hours
You are a type of their uncertain gold.