 | Collected poems |  |
215
TO AN INTRUSIVE BUTTERFLY
“Kill not—for Pity's sake—and lest ye slay
The meanest thing upon its upward way.”
Five Rules of Buddha
The meanest thing upon its upward way.”
Five Rules of Buddha
I watch you through the garden walks,
I watch you float between
The avenues of dahlia stalks,
And flicker on the green;
You hover round the garden seat,
You mount, you waver. Why,—
Why storm us in our still retreat,
O saffron Butterfly!
I watch you float between
The avenues of dahlia stalks,
And flicker on the green;
You hover round the garden seat,
You mount, you waver. Why,—
Why storm us in our still retreat,
O saffron Butterfly!
Across the room in loops of flight
I watch you wayward go;
Dance down a shaft of glancing light,
Review my books a-row;
Before the bust you flaunt and flit
Of “blind Mæonides”—
Ah, trifler, on his lips there lit
Not butterflies, but bees!
I watch you wayward go;
Dance down a shaft of glancing light,
Review my books a-row;
Before the bust you flaunt and flit
Of “blind Mæonides”—
Ah, trifler, on his lips there lit
Not butterflies, but bees!
You pause, you poise, you circle up
Among my old Japan;
You find a comrade on a cup,
A friend upon a fan;
You wind anon, a breathing-while,
Around Amanda's brow;—
Dost dream her then, O Volatile!
E'en such an one as thou?
Among my old Japan;
You find a comrade on a cup,
A friend upon a fan;
216
Around Amanda's brow;—
Dost dream her then, O Volatile!
E'en such an one as thou?
Away! Her thoughts are not as thine.
A sterner purpose fills
Her steadfast soul with deep design
Of baby bows and frills;
What care hath she for worlds without,
What heed for yellow sun,
Whose endless hopes revolve about
A planet, ætat One
A sterner purpose fills
Her steadfast soul with deep design
Of baby bows and frills;
What care hath she for worlds without,
What heed for yellow sun,
Whose endless hopes revolve about
A planet, ætat One
Away! Tempt not the best of wives;
Let not thy garish wing
Come fluttering our Autumn lives
With truant dreams of Spring!
Away! Reseek thy “Flowery Land”;
Be Buddha's law obeyed;
Lest Betty's undiscerning hand
Should slay . . . a future Praed!
Let not thy garish wing
Come fluttering our Autumn lives
With truant dreams of Spring!
Away! Reseek thy “Flowery Land”;
Be Buddha's law obeyed;
Lest Betty's undiscerning hand
Should slay . . . a future Praed!
| Collected poems | |