88
OFF SHORE
But the sun stands fast,
And the sea burns bright,
And the flight of them past
Is no more than the flight
Of the snow-soft swarm of serene wings poised and afloat
in the light.
Like flowers upon flowers
In a festival way
When hours after hours
Shed grace on the day,
White blossomlike butterflies hover and gleam through
the snows of the spray.
Like snow-coloured petals
Of blossoms that flee
From storm that unsettles
