Ina Donna Coolbrith (Ина Донна Кулбрит)
The Mariposa Lily
Insect or blossom? Fragile, fairy thing, Poised upon slender tip, and quivering To flight! a flower of the fields of air; A jeweled moth; a butterfly, with rare And tender tints upon his downy wings, A moment resting in our happy sight; A flower held captive by a thread so slight Its petal-wings of broidered gossamer Are light as the wind, with every wind astir, Wafting sweet odor, faint and exquisite. O dainty nursling of the field and sky. What fairer thing looks up to heaven's blue And drinks the noontide sun, the dawning's dew? Thou winged bloom! thou blossom-butterfly!
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