Kill Not--For Pity'S Sake--And Lest Ye Slay The Meanest Thing Upon Its Upward Way. Five Rules Of Buddha. I Watch You Through The Garden Walks, I Watch You Float Between The Avenues Of Dahlia Stalks, And Flicker On The Green; You Hover Round The Garden Seat, You Mount, You Waver. Why,-- Why Storm Us In Our Still Retreat, O Saffron Butterfly! Across The Room In Loops Of Flight I Watch You Wayward Go; Dance Down A Shaft Of Glancing Light, Review My Books A-Row; Before The Bust You Flaunt And Flit Of "Blind M'Onides"-- Ah, Trifler, On His Lips There Lit Not Butterflies, But Bees! You Pause, You Poise, You Circle Up Among My Old Japan; You Find A Comrade On A Cup, A Friend Upon A Fan; You Wind Anon, A Breathing-While, Around Amanda'S Brow;-- Dost Dream Her Then, O Volatile! E'En Such An One As Thou? Away! Her Thoughts Are Not As Thine. A Sterner Purpose Fills Her Steadfast Soul With Deep Design Of Baby Bows And Frills; What Care Hath She For Worlds Without, What Heed For Yellow Sun, Whose Endless Hopes Revolve About A Planet, 'Tat One! Away! Tempt Not The Best Of Wives; Let Not Thy Garish Wing Come Fluttering Our Autumn Lives With Truant Dreams Of Spring! Away! Re-Seek Thy "Flowery Land;" Be Buddha'S Law Obeyed; Lest Betty'S Undiscerning Hand Should Slay ... A Future Praed!