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Journals of Dorothy Wordsworth, Vol. 1 (of 2)
·
Dorothy Wordsworth
114
Sunday
Morning.--William
...
got
up
at
nine
o'clock,
but
before
he
rose
he
had
finished
The
Beggar
Boy,
and
while
we
were
at
breakfast
...
he
wrote
the
poem
To
a
Butterfly!
He
ate
not
a
morsel,
but
sate
with
his
shirt
neck
unbuttoned,
and
his
waistcoat
open
while
he
did
it.
The
thought
first
came
upon
him
as
we
were
talking
about
the
pleasure
we
both
always
felt
at
the
sight
of
a
butterfly.
I
told
him
that
I
used
to
chase
them
a
little,
but
that
I
was
afraid
of
brushing
the
dust
off
their
wings,
and
did
not
catch
them.
He
told
me
how
he
used
to
kill
all
the
white
ones
when
he
went
to
school
because
they
were
Frenchmen....
I
wrote
it
down
and
the
other
poems,
and
I
read
them
all
over
to
him....
William
began
to
try
to
alter
The
Butterfly,
and
tired
himself....
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