(sonnet # CLXXXIV)
CLXXXIV
Like morning glories taken flight, there's these
Quite precious little butterflies: so fair
And creamy white, just nigh their size; in air,
On wing, how silent, gaily flutt'ring tease
The fancy in sweet capers traipsing; please,
Allure with breathless charm, as flirting e'er
Enchant the captive gaze, their play oft where
Pure fantasy seems calling, dangling keys.
The vine itself can be a pest, entwined
Half-strangling other plants; a beauty though,
A darling climbing ev'rywhere. Combined
With these dear fairies, more beloved; a show
In graceful aerie dance, by them enshrined:
A playful pair of what? Love and her beau!
02Aug11