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A SHEAF GLEANED

SONG.

THÉOPHILE GAUTIER.

The butterflies as white as snow
Float in bright swarms across the sea;
Gay butterflies, pray let me know
When shall such wings be given to me?

Know'st thou, O fairest of the fair,
My Bayadère with eyes of jet,
If I could float like them in air,
Where I should go through shine and wet?

Not to the rose, as red it glows,
But o'er the vales and forests high,
Straight to thy lips that smiles unclose,
Flower of my soul, and there I'd die.