⁠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