Explore "Masonubu -- Early" by John Gould Fletcher on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
She was a dream of moons, of fluttering handkerchiefs, Of flying leaves, of parasols, A riddle made to break my heart; The lightest impulse To her was more dear than the deep-toned temple bell.
She fluttered to my sword-hilt an instant, And then flew away; But who will spend all day chasing a butterfly?