Mama’s Little Butterfly

A big sister helps the fun
When she loves the Little One.
Belle and May are such a pair;
Both are sweet, and both are fair.
Belle is eight, and May is three —
A wee midget full of glee.
Her slow wandering for hours 
In among the garden flowers
Won the name we call her by:
"Mamma's Little Butterfly."

In the summer-house one day
Very still were Belle and May, 
For so long, we said: “No doubt 
It's some mischief they're about!" 
Mamma peeped in, and the view 
Made her smile, and wonder too.
There stood May in quaint army,
"Mid a spreading palm, and yet 
So among the broad leaves set,
As if lightly poised on one, 
And just full of smothered fun!

Belle around her waist had bound
A broad sash with golden ground;
On each shoulder a vast fan —
Gayest gift of gay Japan;
And a red fez on her head, 
With long " feelers" from it spread.
"Now," said Belle, with laughing eyes;
“We'll give mamma a surprise.”

I guess she surprised them more :
Rushing through the opening door 
She snatched May out, with a kiss
"Ha! What winged thing is this?' 
She-exclaims; and both reply:
"Mamma's Little Butterfly!"