In the middle of our porridge plates
There was a blue butterfly painted
And each morning we tried who should reach the
Thine emulous fond flowers are dead, too,
And the daft sun-assaulter, he
That frighted thee so oft, is fled or dead:
Chuang Tzu And The Butterfly
Chuang Tzu in dream became a butterfly,
And the butterfly became Chuang Tzu at waking.
Which was the real—the butterfly or the man ?
Who can tell the end of the endless changes of things?
A Luminous Butterfly
Wonder winged luminous in my eyes.
Elegance sheer I perceive and prize
On a flower who plays the sun of skies.
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,
The Genesis Of The Butterfly
The dawn is smiling on the dew that covers
The tearful roses; lo, the little lovers
That kiss the buds, and all the flutterings
In jasmine bloom, and privet, of white wings,
Oh Mama look, a flutterby.
(her tiny hand held it out to me) .
She grasped it firmly in her fist,
afraid to set it free.
To A Butterfly (2)
I'VE watched you now a full half-hour,
Self-poised upon that yellow flower;
And, little Butterfly! indeed
I know not if you sleep or feed.