Listening to the glassy tinkle
Of the painted Japanese
Wind-bells swaying in the breeze,
Michael sees
Butterflies of light that twinkle
Round the walls with golden glancing,
Glancing, dancing to the ringing
Of the crystal wind-bells swinging.

As he stands there listening, dreaming,
Fairer even than the flight
Of the butterflies of light
Flit the bright
Fancies in his blue eyes gleaming—
In his happy heart a rarer,
Rarer fairer music singing
Than the wind-bell's crystal ringing.