The Ballade Of Butterflies

Posted on Updated on

Because we never build a nest
And no one of us ever sings,
We are the butt of every jest
That strutting loud-mouthed robin flings.
Unless the field with laughter rings
And we are meek in our replies
His claws and beak to bear he brings;
Have pity on all butterflies!

Since we are of no home possessed,
And have no joy in courts and kings,
And love on working-days to rest,
The name of ‘Idlers’ to us clings.
On all our gypsy travellings
They follow us with jeering cries.
From every rose a spider springs;
Have pity on all butterflies!

A little thing is our request-
Some peace from nets of sticks and strings,
An hour to feel the sunlight’s zest,
To ‘scape the deadly bee that stings.
From hostile fortune’s bolts and slings
Give us release ere Summer dies-
We dread the Winter’s threatenings;
Have pity on all butterflies!
Great Pan, kind lord of living things,
Look on us now with friendly eyes.
We pray to you on trembling wings,
Have pity on all butterflies!


– Joyce Kilmer



Posted on Updated on

Butterfly, the wind blows sea-ward,
strong beyond the garden-wall!
Butterfly, why do you settle on my
shoe, and sip the dirt on my shoe,
Lifting your veined wings, lifting them?
big white butterfly!

Already it is October, and the wind
blows strong to the sea
from the hills where snow must have
fallen, the wind is polished with
Here in the garden, with red
geraniums, it is warm, it is warm
but the wind blows strong to sea-ward,
white butterfly, content on my shoe!

Will you go, will you go from my warm
Will you climb on your big soft wings,
as up an invisible rainbow, an arch
till the wind slides you sheer from the
and in a strange level fluttering you go
out to sea-ward, white speck!


– David Herbert Lawrence


Butterflies Flight

Posted on Updated on

Peter sat upon the stump,
Watching little things,
All different colors,
All different wings.

One was black and spotted,
How it caught his eyes,
It fluttered its little wings,
It tried and tried to fly.

Up you go, said Peter,
You can fly so high,
All you have to do he said,
Is flap with all your might.

Flap the little butterfly did,
Flapped with all its might,
It raised a little in the air,
Then fell down out of fright.

Feeling a little discouraged,
He wiggled his wings and sighed,
Then he got an idea,
And thought, just one last try.

He spread his wings so far,
Flapped them fast and slow,
When he started to raise,
He gave Peter the go.

As he flapped away,
Peter gave a gentle blow,
And that little butterfly,
Gave quiet the little show.

He flew so very high,
That Peter couldn’t see,
Which butterfly was his?
I guess he’s truly free.


– Annalee Hopkins Somerville