Thine emulous fond flowers are dead, too,
And the daft sun-assaulter, he
That frightened thee so oft, is fled or dead:
Saave only me
(Nor is it sad to thee!)
Save only me
There is none left to mourn thee in the fields.

The gray grass is scarce dappled with the snow;
Its two banks have not shut upon the river;
But it is long ago–
It seems forever–
Since first I saw thee glance,
WIth all thy dazzling other ones,
In airy dalliance,
Precipitate in love,
Tossed, tangled, whirled and whirled above,
Like a linp rose-wreath in a fairy dance.

When that was, the soft mist
Of my regret hung not on all the land,
And I was glad for thee,
And glad for me, I wist.

Thou didst not know, who tottered, wandering on high,
That fate had made thee for the pleasure of the wind,
With those great careless wings,
Nor yet did I.

And there were othe rthings:
It seemed God let thee flutter from his gentle clasp:
Then fearful he had let thee win
Too far beyond him to be gathered in,
Santched thee, o’ereager, with ungentle gasp.

Ah! I remember me
How once conspiracy was rife
Against my life–
The languor of it and the dreaming fond;
Surging, the grasses dizzied me of thought,
The breeze three odors brought,
And a gem-flower waved in a wand!

Then when I was distraught
And could not speak,
Sidelong, full on my cheek,
What should that reckless zephyr fling
But the wild touch of thy dye-dusty wing!

I found that wing broken today!
For thou art dead, I said,
And the strang birds say.
I found it with the withered leaves
Under the eaves.

Analysis, meaning and summary of Robert Frost's poem My Butterfly


  1. Ally says:

    To Ben I agree with you but his father died at age 12

  2. Desirae Bennett says:

    When this was first published, what was the reaction of the public/readers? Wouldn’t that be interesting to know

  3. Ashley Todd says:

    This is an amazing poem about weather, nature, and Christ. I wonder what Mr. Robert Frost was thinking when he wrote this electrifying poem.

  4. Maureen says:

    I loved this poem, I never knew Robert Frost 1st poem before. But, do go in and correct the missed spelled words and such.

  5. Michelle says:

    This is quite a beautiful elegy. The description of winter seems to lay, not only in the surroundings about him, but within his heart as well. How elegant to describe his love as a butterfly that flew away from God’s grasp, just wondering where she flew off to. Though this poem is quite cold and saddening, it is strangely heart warming as well.

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