Old Men And Butterflies

Just off a highway, a many ringed oak tree,guarding forever his corner of meadow,saw one hot june day a dusty old pedlarfootsore and weary look round himfor shadow..."Come my weary friend and lay your pack upon the groundand I will keep you safe if you should care to rest your head.Come my weary friend and lay your troubles all aroundand listen to the music in the leaves above your bed."Gladly the oid manlay down by the oak treemuttered his thanks and fell soundly asleep...The old pedlarslept on for many an hourresting his head on his hand by and by:he dreamed a dream that he'd left his old bodyand had become a fine gold butterfly...The golden butterfly went flittingflower after nowerand dreamed he was an old manfast asleep for many an hour...The golden butterfly went flittingflower after flowerand dreamed he was an old mansound asleep for many an hour...The old pedlar slept on beneaththe great oak treedreaming his butterfly dreamwhere he new free...The golden butterfly went flittingflower after flowerand dreamed he was an old manwho could sleep for many an hour.The golden butterflies go flittingever to explorebut dream that they are old menwho can sleep for evermore.