THIS great purple butterfly, In the prison of my hands, Has a learning in his eye Not a poor fool understands. Once he lived a schoolmaster With a stark, denying look; A string of scholars went in fear Of his great birch and his great book. Like the clangour of a bell, Sweet and harsh, harsh and sweet, That is how he learnt so well To take the roses for his meat. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONGS FOR TWO SEASONS: 1. AFTER GRAVE ILLNESS by CAROL FROST NOTES FOR THE FIRST LINE OF A SPANISH POEM by JAMES GALVIN SUPREME by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE AUDACIOUS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON SURFACES AND MASKS; 4 by CLARENCE MAJOR THE RAINY SEASON by CLARENCE MAJOR |