It is blue-butterfly day here in spring,
And with these sky-flakes down in flurry on flurry
There is more unmixed color on the wing
Than flowers will show for days unless they hurry.
But these are flowers that fly and all but sing:
And now from having ridden out desire
They lie closed over in the wind and cling
Where wheels have freshly sliced the April mire.
First line A Second line B Third A Fourth B Fifth A Sixth C Seventh A Eighth C
A beautiful poem that reminds the childhood running after butterflies
I love how Frost enables butterflies and flowers to kind of become the same 'thing' in one's poetry muddled mind.
..........a blue butterfly on a spring day is a fantastic inspiration for a poem....enjoyed much...