THE SOUL OF A BUTTERFLY 339 
“SINCE CLEOPATRA DIED” 
“ Since Cleopatra died, 
T have lived in such dishonor that the gods 
Detest my baseness.” 
“Since Cleopatra died!” Long years are past, 
In Antony’s fancy, since the deed was done. 
Love counts its epochs, not from sun to sun, 
But by the heart-throb. Mercilessly fast 
Time has swept onward since she looked her last 
On life, a queen. For him the sands have run 
Whole ages through their glass, and kings 
have won 
And lost their empires o’er earth’s surface 
vast 
Since Cleopatra died. Ah! Love and Pain 
Make their own measure of all things that be. 
No clock’s slow ticking marks their deathless 
strain ; 
The life they own is not the life we see ; 
Love’s single moment is eternity : 
Eternity, a thought in Shakespeare’s brain. 
THE SOUL OF A BUTTERFLY 
OVER the field where the brown quails whistle, 
Over the ferns where the rabbits lie, 
Floats the tremulous down of a thistle. 
Is it the soul of a butterfly ? 
