Then her gaze passed from the mountains
To the stream that shone in distance,
Like a snake in sunshine sleeping.
Then she glanced upon the forests
Motionlessly far off, resting
'neath a veil of golden vapor.
Then she looked upon the flowers
Over which her feet had frolicked,
Thence upon the spreading mosses,
Scabious, in many colors
Golden buzzing bees upon it,
And the struggling ants beneath it.
Suddenly, her feet aswaying
From among the snow white flowers
Waked a butterfly, soft velvet
Wings of black with white hemmed edges.
He flew up and fluttered onward,
Sat upon a cliff's protrusion,
Then flew back, 'round Satanella,
Darted like a flash of sorrow,
Like a thought whose melancholy
Suddenly and unsuspecting
Caught her in its spreading meshes.
And perchance this darting creature,
This black butterfly of mourning,
Took upon its wings of velvet
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