To the wall of the old green garden A butterfly quivering came; His wings on the sombre lichens Played like a yellow flame. He looked at the gray geraniums, And the sleepy four-o'-clocks, He looked at the low lanes bordered With the glossy growing box. He longed for the peace and the silence And the shadows that lengthened there, And his wild wee heart was weary Of skimming the endless air. And now in the old green garden, -- I know not how it came, -- A single pansy is blooming, Bright as a yellow flame. And whenever a gay gust passes, It quivers as if with pain, For the butterfly soul within it Longs for the winds again. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LA CONDUCTORA DEL DESEO/CONDUIT by VIRGIL SUAREZ PANDOSTO, THE TRIUMPH OF TIME: IN PRAISE OF HIS BEST-BELOVED FAWNIA by ROBERT GREENE THE DEBT UNPAYABLE by FRANCIS WILLIAM BOURDILLON THE DOWNS by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES A MARCH GLEE by JOHN BURROUGHS WESTWARD PAGEANT by LUCILLE BURTON |