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...APRIL by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS A GARDEN SONG by HENRY AUSTIN DOBSON LINCOLN by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR PSALM 104 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE THE COMFORTING by MARGARET E. BRUNER GLIMPSES OF CHILDHOOD: 3. THE DOLLS' HOSPITAL by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON |