So sorry, Amy, that I have not been able to spend any time here lately. (I'm sure people are wondering why on earth my name is posted at the top of the thread, since I am never here, LOL). I will try to do better. :-)
Here's a pretty poem for your pretty thread.
To A Butterfly (second) by William Wordsworth
I'VE watched you now a full half-hour;
Self-poised upon that yellow flower
And, little Butterfly! indeed
I know not if you sleep or feed.
How motionless!--not frozen seas
More motionless! and then
What joy awaits you, when the breeze
Hath found you out among the trees,
And calls you forth again!
This plot of orchard-ground is ours;
My trees they are, my Sister's flowers;
Here rest your wings when they are weary;
Here lodge as in a sanctuary!
Come often to us, fear no wrong;
Sit near us on the bough!
We'll talk of sunshine and of song,
And summer days, when we were young;
Sweet childish days, that were as long
As twenty days are now.
Written in the orchard, Town-end, Grasmere.