Frail Travellers, deftly flickering over the flowers; <br />O living flowers against the heedless blue <br />Of summer days, what sends them dancing through <br />This fiery-blossom’d revel of the hours? <br /> <br />Theirs are the musing silences between <br />The enraptured crying of shrill birds that make <br />Heaven in the wood while summer dawns awake; <br />And theirs the faintest winds that hush the green. <br /> <br />And they are as my soul that wings its way <br />Out of the starlit dimness into morn: <br />And they are as my tremulous being—born <br />To know but this, the phantom glare of day.<br /><br />Siegfried Sassoon<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/butterflies-2/
