midday
-- there 's a break -- a division -- so that when you 've grasped the stem the butterfly 's off -- the moth that hangs in the evening over the yellow flower -- move , raise your hand , off , high , away . I wo n't raise my hand . Hang still , then , quiver , life , soul , spirit , whatever you are of Minnie Marsh -- I , too , on my flower -- the hawk over the down -- alone , or what were the worth of life ? To rise ; hang still in the evening , in the midday ; hang still over the down . The flicker of a hand -- off , up ! then poised again . Alone , unseen ; seeing all so still down there , all so lovely .