 | The candle in the cabin |  |
115
A NEW SECTION ENTITLED THE BUTTERFLY CITIZENS
117
THREE LITTLE FLOWER SHIPS
Three littleFlower-ships
Went sailing by,
With butterflies
For sails.
THE MUSICAL BUTTERFLY
The musicalButterfly,
Whose wings are a harp,
And the dots
Are the notes
Of the tunes
That he plays.
118
THE STORM-BLOWN BUTTERFLIES
TwoStorm-blown
Butterflies,
Kings of the Storm,
With their little Crowns
Quite groggy.
THE PRAIRIE BUTTERFLY
The prairie butterflyThat dreamed of mountain-birds,
(Birds that were veiled
Like brides)
Was followed by
His dreams
Into the mountains.
120
THE BUTTERFLY CITIZENS
Indian Pass is golden green,
Indian Pass is high;
Over it, the glaciers,
Under it, scraps of sky.
Indian Pass is high;
Over it, the glaciers,
Under it, scraps of sky.
We climbed over Indian Pass
And thought of Springfield Town,
Far away in Illinois,
While the wind roared down,
Springfield seemed a star afar, a far off jewel flame,
Our home-town was a wonder-point,
Or merely one more name.
And thought of Springfield Town,
Far away in Illinois,
While the wind roared down,
Springfield seemed a star afar, a far off jewel flame,
Our home-town was a wonder-point,
Or merely one more name.
The real town, the one town,
Was the sod beneath our feet,
With city streets complete:
With the Indian Paint, the bear grass,
The ferns that toss, the fireweed floss,
The hundred sorts of mountain moss;
And up and down, across, across,
Flew the mountain citizens,
The shining snow-line butterflies
With peacock-winged eyes.
Was the sod beneath our feet,
With city streets complete:
With the Indian Paint, the bear grass,
The ferns that toss, the fireweed floss,
The hundred sorts of mountain moss;
And up and down, across, across,
Flew the mountain citizens,
The shining snow-line butterflies
With peacock-winged eyes.
122
THE PROCESSION POLITICAL
Each insectFlings off
His repression!
The butterfly
Torch-light
Procession!
THE PRESIDENT
The butterfliesChose for their president
A great big lily of glass.
We saw their
Election-rockets pass.
And the
Mountain-rocket flower
Turned to a rocket
And flew past
The lily of glass.
124
SNOW-BORN BUTTERFLIES
The Forest-Ranger's Second Honeymoon
When you and I were white, white snow-born butterflies,
When you and I were butterflies,
When these were new-born mountains,
Back there a million geologic years,
The loves of fearful beasts went on
In all the valleys,
And love was shame and fury, blood and tears.
When you and I were butterflies,
When these were new-born mountains,
Back there a million geologic years,
The loves of fearful beasts went on
In all the valleys,
And love was shame and fury, blood and tears.
But we found new ways of loving
In the hearts of mountain flowers,
Close to glaciers, and the snow-line places.
We read a shy delight in the wooing red and white
Of all the tree-buds in their breeds and races.
In the hearts of mountain flowers,
Close to glaciers, and the snow-line places.
We read a shy delight in the wooing red and white
Of all the tree-buds in their breeds and races.
And we bound ourselves together,
And flew through the blue air,
Fluttering in naked sweetness in the sun.
That was the day that this day on the fire-grass was begun.
Still we are tender, and flower-taught,
In the light of the sun.
And flew through the blue air,
Fluttering in naked sweetness in the sun.
That was the day that this day on the fire-grass was begun.
Still we are tender, and flower-taught,
In the light of the sun.
Love is not death and fury, blood and tears;
Love holds no secret fears.
Love is the naked glory
Of the white, eternal, snowy, splendid summits of the years.
Love holds no secret fears.
Love is the naked glory
Of the white, eternal, snowy, splendid summits of the years.
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