The high-life in-crowd, fairest of the fair
Do we salute the dandy butterfly
On wings of painted silk that sail on air,
The beautiful, the ones who catch the eye
And leave without so much as a goodbye.
But we in shadows meet the subtle moth
On patchwork wings, a quilt of itching cloth
Twitching around the artificial light,
Whose darkling dances with no care for froth
Are still no less exquisite in our sight.