MEADOW GRASSES 



(To B. E. H. T.) 



i 



A BRIMSTONE butterfly drifted with the 

 wind over the waving grasses, and settled 

 on the shallow cup of a tall flower, John- 

 go-to-bed-at-noon. The bright flowers 

 were closing, for the sun was high. It 

 paused for an instant only, and then flut- 

 tered over the hedge and was gone. Came 

 a common white butterfly a weed of the 

 air, hated by the countrymen : yet part of 

 summer's heart as it flickered like a strayed 

 snowflake in the sunshine, passing the 

 whorled spires of red-green sorrel and glazed 

 petals of buttercup, living its brief hour 

 among the scents and colours of summer. 

 Vibrating their sun-crisped wings with shrill 



hum, the hover-flies shot past: the wild 

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