XXXI
Butterfly Words
Butterfly words from the sun in my brain,
Flitting and darting and flitting again,
Gleaming of golden and violet and rose,
What is the rainbow you spring from, and where?
Butterflies daintily poise and disclose,
Whence is this secret of color you bear?
Sun that is ruddy and fragrant with flowers,
Garnered and hid from these desolate hours,
Misty with beauty, the silver of spring—
Ah, for the ways that are lost to my feet!
Only the dip of the butterfly wing,
Poised for a moment, revives me the sweet.
XXXII
Music
Music has opened her hands,
Through fingers her jewels are falling,
Fingers so delicate slender,
Pale as the ghost of a flower.
Jewels of crimson, the life
Ebbing from hearts that are broken,
Roses and wine and red sunsets,
Flames of undying desire.