Sunday, April 22, 2007

Poem - From cocoon forth a butterfly by Emily Dickinson

It is finally warm enough to linger outside. Therefore, I thought a poem that brings to mind nature, beauty, life and idleness was in order. Of course, it is Emily Dickinson, so an air of sadness is a given... a somber reflection of beauty.

From cocoon forth a butterfly
by Emily Dickinson

From cocoon forth a butterfly
As a lady from her door
Emerged - a summer afternoon -
Repairing everywhere,

Without design, that I could trace,
Except to stray abroad
On miscellaneous enterprise
The clovers understood.

Her pretty parasol was seen
Contracting in a field
Where men made hay, then struggling hard
With an opposing cloud,

Where parties, phantom as herself,
To Nowhere seemed to go
In purposeless circumference,
As 't were a tropic show.

And notwithstanding bee that worked,
And flower that zealous blew,
This audience of idleness
Disdained them, from the sky,

Till sundown crept, a steady tide,
And men that made they hay,
And afternoon, and butterfly,
Extinguished in its sea.

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