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Description
“A Yellow Pansy”

To the wall of the old green garden
A butterfly quivering came:
Her wings on the sombre liechens
Played like a yellow flame.

She looked at the grey geraniums,
And the sleepy four-o’clocks;
She looked at the low lanes bordered
With the glossy-growing box.

She longed for the peace and silence,
And the shadows that lengthened there,
And her wee wild heart was weary
Of skimming the endless air.

And now in the old green garden,
I know not how it came,
A single pansy is blooming,
Bright as a yellow flame.

And whenever a gay gust passes,
It quivers as if with pain,
For the butterfly soul that is in it
Longs for the winds again!

Paraphrased from Helen Gray Cone (19th Century)

I'm dedicating this piece to my Grandmother who passed away peacefully this morning after having lived a long and full life. On this occassion, I found the above poem particularly comforting. We're never truly gone so long as the love and passion of our earthly deeds transcend our failing hands to touch the people and places that we leave behind...

Description
“A Yellow Pansy”

To the wall of the old green garden
A butterfly quivering came:
Her wings on the sombre liechens
Played like a yellow flame.

She looked at the grey geraniums,
And the sleepy four-o’clocks;
She looked at the low lanes bordered
With the glossy-growing box.

She longed for the peace and silence,
And the shadows that lengthened there,
And her wee wild heart was weary
Of skimming the endless air.

And now in the old green garden,
I know not how it came,
A single pansy is blooming,
Bright as a yellow flame.

And whenever a gay gust passes,
It quivers as if with pain,
For the butterfly soul that is in it
Longs for the winds again!

Paraphrased from Helen Gray Cone (19th Century)

I'm dedicating this piece to my Grandmother who passed away peacefully this morning after having lived a long and full life. On this occassion, I found the above poem particularly comforting. We're never truly gone so long as the love and passion of our earthly deeds transcend our failing hands to touch the people and places that we leave behind...