Drink, and are gone.

Butterflies pause
On their passage Cashmere;
I, softly plucking,
Present them here!




XXXIX.

SUNSET.

Where ships of purple gently toss
On seas of daffodil,
Fantastic sailors mingle,
And then -- the wharf is still.




XL.

She sweeps with many-colored brooms,
And leaves the shreds behind;
Oh, housewife in the evening west,
Come back, and dust the pond!

You dropped a purple ravelling in,