It is blue-butterfly day here in s
And with these sky-flakes down in
There is more unmixed color on the
Than flowers will show for days un
But these are flowers that fly and

When the spent sun throws up its r
And goes down burning into the gul
No voice in nature is heard to cry
At what has happened. Birds, at l
It is the change to darkness in th

Oh, give us pleasure in the flower
And give us not to think so far aw
As the uncertain harvest; keep us
All simply in the springing of the
Oh, gives us pleasure in the orcha

Blood has been harder to dam back
Just when we think we have it impo
Behind new barrier walls (and let
It breaks away in some new kind of
We choose to say it is let loose b

YOU were forever finding some new
So when I saw you down on hands a
In the meadow, busy with the new-c
Trying, I thought, to set it up o
I went to show you how to make it

The firm house lingers, though ave
With the new city street it has to
But what about the brook
That held the house as in an elbow
I ask as one who knew the brook, i

A dented spider like a snow drop w
On a white Heal-all, holding up a
Like a white piece of lifeless sat
Saw ever curious eye so strange a
Portent in little, assorted death

Out through the fields and the woo
And over the walls I have wended;
I have climbed the hills of view
And looked at the world, and desce
I have come by the highway home,

Lovers, forget your love,
And list to the love of these,
She a window flower,
And he a winter breeze.
When the frosty window veil

The west was getting out of gold,
The breath of air had died of cold
When shoeing home across the white
I thought I saw a bird alight.
In summer when I passed the place