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Poem by Katherine Mansfield
In the middle of our porridge plates There was a blue butterfly painted And each morning we tried who should reach the butterfly first. Then the Grandmother said: ”Do not eat the poor butterfly.” That made us laugh. Always she said it and always it started us laughing. It seemed such a sweet little joke. I was certain that one fine morning The butterfly would fly out of our plates, Laughing the teeniest laugh in the world, And perch on the Grandmother’s lap.
Katherine Mansfield's other poems:
English Poetry. E-mail firstname.lastname@example.org