May 27, 2001

 

A Poem on a Sunday Afternoon

 

we joyful view the butterfly

which lovely oft’ does flutter by

its early form gives death the lie

becomes a feast to please the eye

in wondrous hue upon the sky

 

of such beauty our own may shy

with scarce more than a quiet sigh

but such response would truth deny

for none but man did God’s Son die

and triumphant rise to reign on high

 

2012-06-28

Changed order of "triumphant" and "rise"

2015-11-17

Changed "gave" to "give" and "became" to "becomes"