Blue-Butterfly Day, by Robert Frost
IT is blue-butterfly day here in spring,
And ...
Butterfly Poems
Fragmentary Blue, by Robert Frost
WHY make so much of fragmentary blue
In here a...
My Butterfly, by Robert Frost
THINE emulous fond flowers are dead, too,
A...
Range-Finding, by Robert Frost
THE battle rent a cobweb diamond-strung
And cu...
The Tuft of Flowers, by Robert Frost
I WENT to turn the grass once after one
Who m...
Beggars, by William Wordsworth
She had a tall man's height or more;
Her face...
The Blind Highland Boy, by William Wordsworth
Now we are tired of boisterous joy,
Have romp...
The Oak and the Broom, by William Wordsworth
I
His simple truths did Andrew glean
Be...
The Redbreast Chasing the Butterfly, by William Wordsworth
Art thou the bird whom Man loves best,
The pi...
Stanzas written in my Pocket Copy of Thomson's Castle of Indolence, by William Wordsworth
Within our happy Castle there dwelt One
Whom w...
To a Butterfly, by William Wordsworth
Stay near medo not take thy flight!
A little l...
To a Butterfly II, by William Wordsworth
I've watch'd you now a full half-hour,
Self-p...
The Talking Oak, by Alfred Tennyson
Once more the gate behind me falls;
Once more...
Advice To a Butterfly, by Maxwell Bodenheim
Aimless petal of the wind,
Spinning gently we...
The Bee Is Not Afraid of Me, by Emily Dickinson
The bee is not afraid of me,
I know the butte...
The Butterfly's Assumption-Gown, by Emily Dickinson
The butterfiy's assumption-gown,
In chrysopra...
From the Chrysalis, by Emily Dickinson
My cocoon tightens, colors tease,
I'm feelin...
A Little Road Not Made of Man, by Emily Dickinson
A little road not made of man,
Enabled of the...
The Cremona Violin, by Amy Lowell
Part First Frau Concert-Meister Altgelt shut t...
Late September, by Amy Lowell
Tang of fruitage in the air;
Red boughs burst...
Song, by Amy Lowell
Oh! To be a flower
Nodding in th...
Beggars, by William Wordsworth
She had a tall man's height or more;
Her face...
The Blind Highland Boy, by William Wordsworth
Now we are tired of boisterous joy,
Have romp...
The Oak and the Broom, by William Wordsworth
I His simple truths did Andrew glean
Beside ...
The Redbreast Chasing the Butterfly, by William Wordsworth
Art thou the bird whom Man loves best,
The pi...