Another Song Of A Fool

 This great purple butterfly,
In the prison of my hands,
Has a learning in his eye
Not a poor fool understands.


Once he lived a schoolmaster
With a stark, denying look;
A string of scholars went in fear
Of his great birch and his great book.


Like the clangour of a bell,
Sweet and harsh, harsh and sweet.

That is how he learnt so well
To take the roses for his meat.

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