It is blue-butterfly day here in spring, <br />And with these sky-flakes down in flurry on flurry <br />There is more unmixed color on the wing <br />Than flowers will show for days unless they hurry. <br /> <br />But these are flowers that fly and all but sing: <br />And now from having ridden out desire <br />They lie closed over in the wind and cling <br />Where wheels have freshly sliced the April mire.<br /><br />Robert Lee Frost<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/blue-butterfly-day/
