But the little girl, with the instinctive tenderness of the future mother-soul in her, dreads to touch those strangely delicate wings; she fears, not only to spoil, but also to hurt.
Deeper thoughts than memory may still be suggested to English poets by the sight of a butterfly, and probably will be for hundreds of years to come.
Perhaps the best poem of a half-metaphorical, half-philosophical thought about butterflies is the beautiful prologue to Browning's "Fifine at the Fair," which prologue is curiously entitled "Amphibian"-- implying that we are about to have a reference to creatures capable of living in two distinctive elements, yet absolutely belonging neither to the one nor to the other.

The poet swims out far into the sea on a beautiful day; and, suddenly, looking up, perceives a beautiful butterfly flying over his head, as if watching him.

The sight of the insect at once suggests to him its relation to Greek fancy as a name for the soul; then he begins to wonder whether it might not really be the soul, or be the symbol of the soul, of a dead woman who loved him.

From that point of the poem begins a little metaphysical fantasy about the possible condition of souls.
The fancy I had to-day, Fancy which turned a fear! I swam far out in the bay, Since waves laughed warm and clear.
I lay and looked at the sun, The noon-sun looked at me: Between us two, no one Live creature, that I could see.
Yes! There came floating by Me, who lay floating too, Such a strange butterfly! Creature as dear as new: Because the membraned wings So wonderful, so wide, So sun-suffused, were things Like soul and nought beside.
So much for the conditions of the poet's revery.

He is swimming in the sea; above his face, only a few inches away, the beautiful butterfly is hovering.