BUTTERFLY, the wind blows sea-ward, strong beyond
the
garden
wall!
Butterfly, why
do you settle on my shoe, and sip the dirt on
my shoe,
Lifting your veined wings,
lifting them? big white butterfly!
Already it is October, and the wind blows strong to the
sea
from the hills
where the snow must have fallen, the wind is
polished with snow.
Here in the garden, with red
geraniums, it is warm, it is warm
but the wind blows strong to sea-ward, white
butterfly, content
on my shoe!
Will you
go, will you go from my warm house?
Will you climb on your big soft wings,
black-dotted,
as up
an invisible rainbow, an arch
till the wind slides you sheer from the
arch-crest
and in a
strange level fluttering you go out to sea-ward, white
speck!
Farewell, farewell, lost soul!
you have melted in the
crystalline distance,
it is enough! I saw you vanish into
air.