BUTTERFLY, the wind blows sea-ward, strong beyond the
the garden wall!
Butterfly, why do you settle on my shoe, and sip the dirt on my
shoe,
lifting your veined wings, lifting them?  big white butterfly!

Already it is October, and the wind blows strong to the sea
from the hills where snow must have fallen, the wind is
polished with snow.
Here in the garden, with red geraniums, it is warm, it is warm
but the wind blows strong to sea-ward, white butterfly,
content on my shoe!

Will you go, will you go from my warm house?
Will you climb on your soft wings, black-dotted,
as you up an invisible rainbow, an arch
till the wind slides you sheer from the arch-crest
and in a strange level fluttering you go out to sea-ward, white
speck!

Farewell, farewell, lost soul!
you have melted in the crystalline distance,
it is enough!  I saw you vanish into air.

 

copyright:  1972 the Estate of D.H. Lawrence
author bio:  https://www.britannica.com/biography/D-H-Lawrence
photo:  D.H. Lawrence in Santa Fe, New Mexico, 1922 (La Wb 1/2)

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