Blue-Butterfly Day

By Robert Frost

It is blue-butterfly day here in spring,

And with these sky-flakes down in flurry on flurry

There is more unmixed color on the wing

Than flowers will show for days unless they hurry.

But these flowers are that fly and all but sing:

And now from having ridden out desire

They life closed over in the wind and cling

Where wheels have freshly sliced the April mire.