Behold, how eager this our little boy <br />Is for a butterfly, as if all joy, <br />All profits, honours, yea, and lasting pleasures, <br />Were wrapped up in her, or the richest treasures <br />Found in her would be bundled up together, <br />When all her all is lighter than a feather. <br /> <br />He halloos, runs, and cries out, 'Here, boys, here!' <br />Nor doth he brambles or the nettles fear: <br />He stumbles at the molehills, up he gets, <br />And runs again, as one bereft of wits; <br />And all his labour and his large outcry <br />Is only for a silly butterfly. <br /> <br />Comparison <br /> <br />This little boy an emblem is of those <br />Whose hearts are wholly at the world's dispose. <br />The butterfly doth represent to me <br />The world's best things at best but fading be. <br />All are but painted nothings and false joys, <br />Like this poor butterfly to these our boys. <br /> <br />His running through nettles, thorns, and briers, <br />To gratify his boyish fond desires, <br />His tumbling over molehills to attain <br />His end, namely, his butterfly to gain, <br />Doth plainly show what hazards some men run <br />To get what will be lost as soon as won.<br /><br />John Bunyan<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/of-the-boy-and-butterfly/
