Radclyffe Hall Poems

Butterfly, butterfly, where are you going?
'Over the roses into the sky.'
Butterfly, butterfly, there is no knowing
When you'll come back again, so good-bye!
...

O Italy of chiming bells,
Of pilgrim shrines and holy wells,
Of incense mist and secret prayers,
Profound and sweet as scented airs
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Beneath the lime trees in the garden
High above the town,
The scent of whose suspended bloom
Entranced the air with warm perfume
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The sea was witness of the words you said :
She hushed her every tide that she might hear
Your whispered love, and while you bent so near
My bosom, laying down your weary head
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You're just as pretty as the Day,
That young and pink above the hills
Trips daintily along her way,
With little breezy thrills.
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Can nothing last?
No deep, intense emotion?
Have all things passed,
Can nothing last?
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I BE hopin' you remember,
Now the Spring has come again,
How we used to gather violets
By the Uttle church at Eastnor,
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I RODE through Eastnor woods to-day.
And all the air did promise May,
Did promise May till every tree
Found voice to make much melody.
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' Oh ! bother,' sang the thrush,
'I'm in an awful rush,
For I've got to get ready for the Spring.
With feathers from my breast,
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From Wind's Point hill at eventide,
I see the train go by ;
The train that goes to Ledbury,
Along the vale of Wye.
...