Edna St. Vincent Millay


Mariposa


BUTTERFLIES are white and blue
In this field we wander through.
Suffer me to take your hand.
Death comes in a day or two.

All the things we ever knew
Will be ashes in that hour:
Mark the transient butterfly,
How he hangs upon the flower.

Suffer em to take your hand.
Suffer me to cherish you
Till the dawn is in the sky.
Whether I be false or true,
Death comes in a day or two.







English Poetry - http://eng-poetry.ru/english/index.php. E-mail eng-poetry.ru@yandex.ru