{"id":9674,"date":"2021-01-06T01:00:00","date_gmt":"2021-01-06T06:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/poetry.newspaperhistory.com\/?p=94"},"modified":"2021-01-06T01:00:00","modified_gmt":"2021-01-06T06:00:00","slug":"butterflies","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/butterflies\/","title":{"rendered":"Butterflies"},"content":{"rendered":"\n<pre class=\"wp-block-verse\"><em>From <\/em><a href=\"https:\/\/chroniclingamerica.loc.gov\/lccn\/sn85038485\/1913-01-06\/ed-1\/seq-4\/\"><em>The Birmingham Age-Herald, January 6, 1913<\/em><\/a><em>.<\/em>\n <em>By Harlowe Randall Hoyt.<\/em>\n \n\n Butterflies, golden, and red, and brown,\n &nbsp; &nbsp; Dancing delirious to and fro,\n Light as the ghost of a thistle down,\n &nbsp; &nbsp; Where do you come from, where do you go?\n Flitting your fairy minuette,\n &nbsp; &nbsp; Silent as sunbeams you seem to be,\n Catching their gossamer gleams; and yet\n &nbsp; &nbsp; You are the spirit of melody.\n \n Back through the dark of the ages fled,\n &nbsp; &nbsp; When the world was young in its coat of green,\n Bearded Pan raised his shaggy head\n &nbsp; &nbsp; By the reedy marshes of Thrasymene;\n And seized his pipes, for his heart was rife\n &nbsp; &nbsp; With the thrill that pulsed through each leaf and tree,\n And he piped of Spring and the joy of life\n &nbsp; &nbsp; Till the forest echoed his melody.\n \n And the quiet people flocked forth to hear:\n &nbsp; &nbsp; Dryad and nymph, from wood and stream;\n Satyr, and faun, and the timid deer,\n &nbsp; &nbsp; Harking with velvet eyes agleam.\n As if \u2018twere the ghost of the tune, indeed,\n &nbsp; &nbsp; Each liquid note, as it raised on high,\n Sprang from the end of the brown, dead reed,\n &nbsp; &nbsp; Into a fluttering butterfly.\n \n No more they listen to shaggy Pan,\n &nbsp; &nbsp; Piping his lilt by the water there;\n Ages ago they fled the van\n &nbsp; &nbsp; Of mortals, freightened with woe and care.\n But still from the reeds of the riverside,\n &nbsp; &nbsp; When the winds are whispering fancies free,\n Butterflies, fluttering far and wide,\n &nbsp; &nbsp; Spring from the magic melody.<\/pre>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p> Butterflies, golden, and red, and brown,<br \/>\n     Dancing delirious to and fro,<br \/>\n Light as the ghost of a thistle down,<br \/>\n     Where do you come from, where do you go?<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3,9],"tags":[153],"class_list":["post-9674","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-newspapers","category-the-birmingham-age-herald","tag-harlowe-randall-hoyt"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9674","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=9674"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9674\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=9674"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=9674"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=9674"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}