An Earthworm once loved a Star. In the hush of the summer night,
He lay quite close to the ground and gazed on its golden light;
He looked from his house of clay, and dreamed of wonderful things,
Till, lo! (as he thought) his longing brought forth miraculous wings.
The Butterfly soared in the air, straight toward the beckoning spark;
His wings grew weary and chill, but the Star smiled through the dark;
His wings grew heavy and cold, the wings that he dreamed love gave,
And he folded them there in the starlight, and the dust became his grave.