 | Birds, Bees and Blossoms |  |
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THE BUTTERFLY.
What a long way
I go in a day,
When I set out to take my pleasure!
I fly a distance you could not measure,
Over flowery valleys and tree-clad hills,
And I hear the murmur of silver rills,
That sing at noon
In the month of June,
When summer roses are in full bloom,
And flowers light up the forest's deep gloom.
I go in a day,
When I set out to take my pleasure!
I fly a distance you could not measure,
Over flowery valleys and tree-clad hills,
And I hear the murmur of silver rills,
That sing at noon
In the month of June,
When summer roses are in full bloom,
And flowers light up the forest's deep gloom.
With folded wing
I stand and swing,
On the sweetest and daintiest buds that blow;
I look in the water that lies below,
And see my form in the mirror lie,
The trees upturned, and the deep blue sky.
A while I look
At myself in the brook,
Then to some companion I hurry away,
And for an hour we round each other play.
I stand and swing,
On the sweetest and daintiest buds that blow;
I look in the water that lies below,
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The trees upturned, and the deep blue sky.
A while I look
At myself in the brook,
Then to some companion I hurry away,
And for an hour we round each other play.
The dragon-fly,
With his large eye,
Gives me a nod as I hurry along;
Then the sweet peas I rush among;
And when they're in flower you cannot tell me,
As I shut up my wings, from the bloom of the pea
On the Painted Lady,
So cool and shady;
While she weds the pea-rods with many a ring,
I stand and look round me while I swing.
With his large eye,
Gives me a nod as I hurry along;
Then the sweet peas I rush among;
And when they're in flower you cannot tell me,
As I shut up my wings, from the bloom of the pea
On the Painted Lady,
So cool and shady;
While she weds the pea-rods with many a ring,
I stand and look round me while I swing.
Away I fly
Where the roses lie,
And on the choicest of blooms alight,
For the richest flowers are mine by right.
On the finest bouquet that's borne by a queen,
Before they graced her fair hand I have been;
Plunged into each bell,
Had the first sweet smell,
And flew with it hanging about me for hours,
Till I bathed in the perfume of fresher flowers.
Where the roses lie,
And on the choicest of blooms alight,
For the richest flowers are mine by right.
On the finest bouquet that's borne by a queen,
Before they graced her fair hand I have been;
Plunged into each bell,
Had the first sweet smell,
And flew with it hanging about me for hours,
Till I bathed in the perfume of fresher flowers.
You wonder why
In jerks I fly,
Why I take such a zig-zag flight;
From right to left, from left to right,
And back again so quick, I defy
You to catch the motion with a sharp eye:
'Tis the birds on the watch,
Who would me catch,
And be very happy to make me their prey,
If I didn't turn sharp and get out of their way.
In jerks I fly,
Why I take such a zig-zag flight;
From right to left, from left to right,
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You to catch the motion with a sharp eye:
'Tis the birds on the watch,
Who would me catch,
And be very happy to make me their prey,
If I didn't turn sharp and get out of their way.
They know my trick
Of turning quick,
So I pass them with a “How do you do?”
They snap their sharp beaks and say, “Oh, that's you.”
Sometimes they come near and make me quake,
But in vain they try the same angles to take.
They turn here,
And I'm off there;
They turn to the right, and I'm out of sight,
Make a dart to the left, I'm off to the right.
Of turning quick,
So I pass them with a “How do you do?”
They snap their sharp beaks and say, “Oh, that's you.”
Sometimes they come near and make me quake,
But in vain they try the same angles to take.
They turn here,
And I'm off there;
They turn to the right, and I'm out of sight,
Make a dart to the left, I'm off to the right.
Oh, what a way
I fly in a day!
Over miles and miles of outstretched flowers,
Where the fingers of Summer weave green bowers;
Where the winds come every way,
Bringing the sweet perfume of May.
My eggs, you know,
Are laid row by row,
And in regular order so neat and clean,
And so close that you can't get a pin's point between.
I fly in a day!
Over miles and miles of outstretched flowers,
Where the fingers of Summer weave green bowers;
Where the winds come every way,
Bringing the sweet perfume of May.
My eggs, you know,
Are laid row by row,
And in regular order so neat and clean,
And so close that you can't get a pin's point between.
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