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The Ballade Of Butterflies

Because we never build a nest
And no one of us ever sings,
We are the butt of every jest
That strutting loud-mouthed robin flings.
Unless the field with laughter rings
And we are meek in our replies
His claws and beak to bear he brings;
Have pity on all butterflies!

Since we are of no home possessed,

And have no joy in courts and kings,
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Saturday, December 13, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: butterfly
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