No more of that, you butterfly, That lie so still on this green leaf, Pretending you're a flower again, And wings but bring you grief: You have no cause, exalted flower, To doubt your flying power. No more of that! You with a gift Not granted yet to any bee Or bird that's flying in the air: The precious gift to see Dark tunnels in this open light, And vanish out of sight. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PLAINT OF THE DISGUSTED BRITON IN THE STATES by GEORGE SANTAYANA OUR COUNTRY by JULIA WARD HOWE GLOTTO'S TOWER by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW MARIPOSA by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY WORDLY WISE (5) by MOTHER GOOSE TO WALTER LIONEL DE ROTHSCHILD ON HIS BAR-MITZVAH by LOUIS BARNETT ABRAHAMS |