Butterflies

Sun-child, as you watched the rainBeat the pane,Saw the garden of your dreamsWhere the clove carnation growsAnd the roseVeiled with shimmering shades and gleams,Mirrored colours, mystic gleams,Fairy dreams,Drifting in your radiant eyesHalf in earnest asked, that day,Half in play,Where were all the butterflies?

Where were all the butterfliesWhen the skiesClouded and their bowers of cloverBowed beneath the golden shower?Every flowerShook and the rose was brimming over.

Ah, the dog-rose trembling overThyme and clover,How it glitters in the sun,Now the hare-bells lift againBright with rainAfter all the showers are done!

See, when all the showers are done,How the sunSoftly smiling o'er the sceneBids the white wings come and goTo and froThrough the maze of gold and green.

Magic webs of gold and greenRainbow sheenMesh the maze of flower and fern,Cuckoo-grass and meadow-sweet,And the wheatWhere the crimson poppies burn.

Ay; and where the poppies burn,They returnAll across the dreamy downs,Little wings that flutter and beatO'er the sweetBluffs the purple clover crowns.

Where the fairy clover crownsDreamy downs,And amidst the golden grassButtercups and daisies blowTo and froWhen the shadowy billows pass;

Time has watched them pause and passWhere Love was;Ah, what fairy butterflies,Little wild incarnate blisses,Coloured kisses,Floating under azure skies!

Under those eternal skiesSee, they rise:Mottled wings of moony sheen,Wings in whitest star-shine dipped,Orange tipped,Eyed with black and veined with green.

They were fairies plumed with greenRainbow-sheenEre Time bade their host begoneFrom that palace built of rosesWhich still dozesIn the greenwood all alone.

In the greenwood all aloneAnd unknown:Now they roam these mortal dellsWondering where that happy glade is,Painted Ladies,Admirals, and Tortoise-shells,

O, Fritillaries, Admirals,Tortoise-shells;You, like fragments of the skiesFringed with Autumn's richest hues,Dainty bluesPatterned with mosaic dyes;Oh, and you whose peacock dyesGleam with eyes;You, whose wings of burnished copperBurn upon the sunburnt braeWhere all dayWhirrs the hot and grey grasshopper;

While the grey grasshopper whirrsIn the furze,You that with your sulphur wingsMelt into the gold perfumeOf the broomWhere the linnet sits and sings;

You that, as a poet sings,On your wingsImage forth the dreams of earth,Quickening them in form and hueTo the newGlory of a brighter birth;

You that bring to a brighter birthDust and earth,Rapt to glory on your wings,All transfigured in the whiteLiving lightShed from out the soul of things;

Heralds of the soul of things,You whose wingsCarry heaven through every glade;Thus transfigured from the petalsDeath unsettles,Little souls of leaf and blade;

You that mimic bud and blade,Light and shade;Tinted souls of leaf and stone,Flower and sunny bank of sand,FairylandCalls her children to their own;Calls them back into their ownGreat unknown;Where the harmonies they cullOn their wings are made completeAs they beatThrough the Gate called Beautiful.