Green one, your long-lunched
feeding days are over;
In this, known form, there's
nowhere left to grow.
Things stir within, undreamt
of fears possess you;
Dearly you would remain with
what you know.
But, law unalterable, that
bids the lush leaves
Change to strange hues and
drop from their safe tree;
That bids the moon transmute
to hidden rhythms,
And binds the lives of all the
things which be,
Calls you to destiny, till now
a rumour
Of alien glory you can't
comprehend.
The days of youthful ignorance
are fleeting.
The only life you know comes
to an end.
What is a butterfly? It were
as easy,
To talk to earthly men of
heavenly things.
Your sceptics say cocoons are
final darkness,
How dare a caterpillar dream
of wings?
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