Robert W. Service

The Comforter

As I sat by my baby’s bed
That’s open to the sky,
There fluttered round and round my head
A radiant butterfly.
 
And as I wept —of hearts that ache
The saddest in the land —
It left a lily for my sake,
And lighted on my hand.
 
I watched it, oh, so quietly,
And though it rose and flew,
As if it fain would comfort me
It came and came anew.
 
Now, where my darling lies at rest,
I do not dare to sigh,
For look! there gleams upon my breast
A snow—white butterfly.

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