Comments about Radclyffe Hall
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!
Butterfly, butterfly, summer is glowing,
But with the winter you too must die,
And your frail soul will be gently blowing
Upward to God on a rose's sigh.
Butterfly, butterfly, butterfly!
The world that thro' its vale of tears
Looks out upon Eternity
Has yet one smile for us, and we
Still youthful in the count of years,
May add our smiles, and kiss the lips
Of life, for whosoever sips
The wine within that ruddy bowl
Has quaffed defiance to the spheres.
Beloved, see, I drink thereto !