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!
_Wordsworth_.
* * * * *
SELF-POISED, balanced.
What is a sanctuary? In the Temple at Jerusalem, what was the Holy of
Holies? Why are the sanctuaries of Catholic churches so supremely holy?