Butterfly Poems

Below you will find an extensive collection of some of the most beautiful and captivating butterfly poems ever written. Poetry has always been a wonderful way to express beauty and create imagery with words that people can appreciate. Some of the poems are by world-renowned writers, such as British poet William Wordsworth, while our amazingly talented readers have written others. The collection includes butterfly poems for children as well as for adults; I’ve included something for everyone!

If you would like to contribute a poem about butterflies to the collection please don’t hesitate to get in contact today. I always enjoy reading user submitted work so please do send it in. If you get selected for the website I will email you back and let you know. I look forward to receiving your submissions!

Extract from: Pagett, M.P.

The toad beneath the harrow knows,

Exactly where each tooth-point goes,

The butterfly upon the road,

Preaches contentment to that toad.

Author: Rudyard Kipling – British author, poet and nobel prize winner. Born in 1865 and died in 1936. Read the full poem here



Beautiful Butterfly

There wings are stretched wide,

fluttering around the flower,

A Butterfly gently lands on a leaf,

They possess a certain power.

Orange, gold, and some are yellow,

Some fly slow and some rather fast,

Always they put on a show of color

that makes this warm feeling last!

They take flight and move with such grace,

It’s fascinating to see how they land,

I enjoy watching one blend in,

As it sometimes greets my hand.

Some of them will fly in pairs,

while others remain alone,

There are some that appear quite small,

And yet there are some that seem full grown!

I have been told that they don’t live long,

Most only live several days,

It is such a wonder of nature,

As I watch as a new one stays.

They love to grace our gardens,

We love to watch them go by,

I am so lucky to have them around me,

As they are flying low and high!

There goes another one,

It stopped to delight me again,

Always lifting my spirits,

As only a butterfly can!

Author: Paul Peterzell

 

Butterfly

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

snow.

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

house?

Will you climb on your big soft wings,

black-dotted,

as up an invisible rainbow, an arch

till the wind slides you sheer from the

arch-crest

and in a strange level fluttering you go

out to sea-ward, white speck!

Author: David Herbert Lawrence

 

On the Wings of A Butterfly 

Your friendship is special

Like the flowers that bloom,

Or when a butterfly emerges

From within its cocoon…

You remind me of that butterfly,

Loving and free,

Bright and colorful,

For the world to see…

We will share sunshine and rainbows;

Sometimes, the rain and the snow;

We’ll stand together through it,

While the cold winds blow…

When the time is right,

We won’t stop to ask ‘Why? ‘

Our friendship will take flight

On the wings of a butterfly…

Author: Unknown (attributed to various authors)

 

November’s Butterfly

Sometimes in November

When the sun is sitting high

A warm Fall breeze will steal the leaves

And cause the trees to cry

Sometimes in November

A butterfly will appear

A cherished thought, a battle fought

For one you loved so dear

Sometimes in November

A daughter will pass away

You wallow in grief, seek relief

And then you learn to pray

Sometimes in November

An angel gets its wings

It’s good and bad but always sad

Both joy and pain this brings

Sometimes in November

A family must say goodbye

As Heaven awaits to open its gates

To November’s butterfly

Author: Unknown

 

Butterfly

How graceful,

Fluttering before me,

Butterfly lands,

Colorful as can be.

Adorning a rose petal,

Sun glistening so bright,

A butterfly journey,

Seems like a rather quick flight.

Wing span so wide,

Resting as they do,

A treat to our senses,

A color fest does ensue,

Spotting a new one,

Blending with the tree,

A difficult task,

Sometimes hard to see.

A delight in the air,

Flying in pairs,

So glad I witnessed,

With so many wide stares.

Author: Paul Peterzell

 

Gracing my garden!

Gliding through the air,

wings so colorful and bright,

A butterfly heads my way,

What a truly amazing sight!

Stripes so perfectly aligned,

Symmetrical and straight

Gold, Orange and Blue,

Viewing one worth the wait.

A flower petal invite,

Enticing as it seems ,

resting for a moment,

as in my butterfly dreams.

Bathing in the suns glow,

A peaceful mood,

A butterfly landing,

an eager observer soothed.

Fluttering about,

A rhythm innately learned.

Effortless in flight,

Caterpillar to Butterfly turned.

Enlightening our world,

brightens a gloomy day.

Watching a butterfly,

dazzles onlookers to stay.

Author: Paul Peterzell

 

One Day Butterfly

Aren’t we all one-day butterflies,

not aware of time.

Searching for partners or honey

until Death kisses us.

Then in his arms, tenderly rocked,

waiting for a new chance

to fly away again

and join the dance

of the one-day butterfly

Author: Unknown

 

Transition

In a land of plenty I was born,

That was when I began to consume.

At first, the amount was very small,

But my hunger increased as I grew,

My eyes saw only what was for me,

Not caring for others, never thinking deep,

In time all things came within my grasp,

But never enough, I could not sleep,

Something was missing, my search began,

So too my strange dreams I couldn’t ignore,

I dreamed I was flying through the air,

And didn’t need to consume any more,

In the end this stopped my appetite,

Then into a deathly sleep I fell,

Within the peace came new beginnings,

Transition to Heaven from my Hell,

With new eyes I saw the brightest dawn,

From my old body burst the new me,

I was slim, trim and lighter than air,

I lifted my wings and flew up free,

I saw down below our precious World.

Its beauty spoilt by the greedy few,

So love each other; Care for our Earth;

Your Butterfly Angel asks of you.

Author: Jaquelyn Niel (Copyright belongs to the author, printing here with permission)

 

Butterfly

Where are you going as you flutter-bye,

With your wonderfull colours, oh butterfly.

What can you taste, what can you see,

With your rugby shirt on, you big bumblebee,

Are you really happy, can you tell us a tale,

Slug with home, slow slippery snail.

Your always around, do you ever get lost,

Your annoying and scary you stinging bad wasp.

Why do you buzz, and fly at full throttle,

Your only a fly, you giant blue bottle.

Do you really eat soil, will you ever learn,

Slithery, slithery garden worm.

Why can you carry things heavy and giant,

Your only minute, you small little ant.

There all in our world, around us each day,

Crawling and flying, in there own special way,

We share this big place with every insect,

Living there lives, so show them respect.

Author: Joff

 

A Chrysalis

My little Mädchen (girl) found one day

A curious something in her play,

That was not fruit, nor flower, nor seed;

It was not anything that grew,

Or crept, or climbed, or swam, or flew;

Had neither legs nor wings, indeed;

And yet she was not sure, she said,

Whether it was alive or dead.

 

She brought it in her tiny hand

To see if I would understand,

And wondered when I made reply,

“You’ve found a baby butterfly.”

“A butterfly is not like this,”

With doubtful look she answered me.

So then I told her what would be

Some day within the chrysalis;

How, slowly, in the dull brown thing

Now still as death, a spotted wing,

And then another, would unfold,

Till from the empty shell would fly

A pretty creature, by and by,

All radiant in blue and gold.

 

“And will it, truly?” questioned she—

Her laughing lips and eager eyes

All in a sparkle of surprise

“And shall your little Mädchen see?”

“She shall!” I said. How could I tell

That ere the worm within its shell

Its gauzy, splendid wings had spread,

My little Mädchen would be dead?

 

To-day the butterfly has flown,—

She was not here to see it fly,—

And sorrowing I wonder why

The empty shell is mine alone.

Perhaps the secret lies in this:

I too had found a chrysalis,

And Death that robbed me of delight

Was but the radiant creature’s flight!

Author: Mary Bradley

 

Butterfly Wishes

Yesterday a butterfly

Came floating gently through the sky.

He soared up through the atmosphere

Then drifted close enough to hear.

I said, “I’d love to fly with you

And sail around the way you do.

It looks like it would be such fun

To fly up toward the summer sun.

But I have not your graceful charm.

I haven’t wings, just these two arms.

I’ve been designed to walk around.

My human feet must touch the ground.

Then magically he spoke to me

and told me what his wish would be.

He said, “What I’d love most to do

Is walk upon God’s Earth with you,

To squish it’s mud between my toes

Or touch my finger to my nose.

I’d love just once to walk around,

With human feet to touch the ground,

But I have not two legs that swing,

I haven’t arms, just these two wings.”

And so we went our separate ways

In wonder and surprise.

For we’d both seen God’s precious gifts

Through someone else’s eyes.

Author: Unknown

 

To A Butterfly

I’ve watched you now a full half-hour,

Self-poised upon that yellow flower;

And, little Butterfly! indeed

I know not if you sleep or feed.

How motionless! – not frozen seas

More motionless! and then

What joy awaits you, when the breeze

Hath found you out among the trees,

And calls you forth again!

This plot of orchard-ground is ours;

My trees they are, my Sister’s flowers;

Here rest your wing when they are weary;

Here lodge as in a sanctuary!

Come often to us, fear no wrong;

Sit near us on the bough!

We’ll talk of sunshine and of song,

And summer days, when we were young;

Sweet childish days, that were as long

As twenty days are now.

Stay near me–do not take thy flight!

A little longer stay in sight!

Much converse do I find in thee,

Historian of my infancy!

Float near me; do not yet depart!

Dead times revive in thee:

Thou bring’st, gay creature as thou art!

A solemn image to my heart,

My father’s family!

Oh! pleasant, pleasant were the days,

The time, when, in our childish plays,

My sister Emmeline and I

Together chased the butterfly!

A very hunter did I rush

Upon the prey:–with leaps and springs

I followed on from brake to bush;

But she, God love her, feared to brush

The dust from off its wings.

Author: William Wordsworth – British poet who initiated the Romantic era of English literature. Most famous for his work, Lyrical Ballards, and his seminal poem, The Prelude. Born 7th April, 1770 and died 23rd April, 1850. 

 

Ode to a butterfly

Thou spark of life that wavest wings of gold,

Thou songless wanderer mid the songful birds,

With Nature’s secrets in thy tints unrolled

Through gorgeous cipher, past the reach of words,

Yet dear to every child

In glad pursuit beguiled,

Living his unspoiled days mid flowers and flocks and herds!

 

Thou winged blossom, liberated thing,

What secret tie binds thee to other flowers,

Still held within the garden’s fostering?

Will they too soar with the completed hours,

Take flight, and be like thee

Irrevocably free,

Hovering at will o’er their parental bowers?

 

Or is thy lustre drawn from heavenly hues,

A sumptuous drifting fragment of the sky,

Caught when the sunset its last glance imbues

With sudden splendor, and the tree-tops high

Grasp that swift blazonry,

Then lend those tints to thee,

On thee to float a few short hours, and die?

 

Birds have their nests; they rear their eager young,

And flit on errands all the livelong day;

Each field-mouse keeps the homestead whence it sprung;

But thou art Nature’s freeman,—free to stray Unfettered through the wood,

Seeking thine airy food,

The sweetness spiced on every blossomed spray.

 

The garden one wide banquet spreads for thee,

O daintiest reveller of the joyous earth!

One drop of honey gives satiety;

A second draught would drug thee past all mirth.

Thy feast no orgy shows;

Thy calm eyes never close,

Thou soberest sprite to which the sun gives birth.

 

And yet the soul of man upon thy wings

Forever soars in aspiration; thou

His emblem of the new career that springs

When death’s arrest bids all his spirit bow.

He seeks his hope in thee

Of immortality.

Symbol of life, me with such faith endow!

Author: Thomas Higginson

 

The Butterfly

The last, the very last,

So richly, brightly, dazzlingly yellow.

Perhaps if the sun’s tears would sing against a white stone…

Such, such a yellow

Is carried lightly way up high

It went away I’ m sure because it wished to

kiss the world goodbye.

For seven weeks I’ve lived in here,

Penned up inside this ghetto

but I have found my people here

The dandelions call to me

And the white chestnut candles in the court.

Only I never saw another butterfly.

That butterfly was the last one,

Butterflies don’t live in here,

In the ghetto.

Author: Pavel Friedmann – Czechoslovakian poet who became famous after his death for his poem, The Butterfly, printed above. Friedmann was born on the 7th January, 1921 and died in the Nazi concentration camp, Auschwitz, on September 29th, 1944. 

 

Birth of a Butterfly

A mama butterfly lays all her eggs,

Out pops a caterpillar, crawling on its legs.

The caterpillar first is rather thin,

But then it eats till it bursts through its skin.

After growing nice and big,

The caterpillar climbs on a leaf or twig.

It makes a shell where it hangs inside,

Then the shell cracks, and the parts divide.

Inside the shell, a change was going on,

The form of the caterpillar now is gone.

When the shell opens, what comes out?

A beautiful butterfly fluttering about.

Author: Unknown

 

Touched by a Butterfly

Dear butterfly,

Majestic monarch of the sky,

holder of universal secrets and reasons why,

color my canvas, touch my heart before I die,

to live in joy, teach me how never to say good-bye.

 

As you flutter by, you hear me sigh,

things missed because I forgot to try,

on your serene beauty I can rely,

oh what celestial magic you do supply.

 

Once you did struggle to be free,

you turned your life around to show me,

amazing my angel how you heard my plea,

you’ve cocooned my mind so I can see.

 

Lets fly together both as one,

and sore beyond time, once upon,

our silken wings God has spun,

Souls entwined, our infinite journey has just begun.

Author: Michael Levy

 

The Map

A mile high above the orb of blue and green below,

The King and Queen of the butterflies sat in state upon

Their flowery thrones and observed with pleasure and curiosity their world

Beneath.

To their surprise, a Chinese man, Zheng He,

Was seen to climb a wooded European hill, carrying a

Compass and map in his right hand.

The human date was 1417, the butterflies time cannot

Be told.

Then on that sparkling egg-blue day, those Monarchs

Who from southern Spain to Paradise once wended,sent

False Heath their chosen messenger, to translate herself

To the hills below, to seek out intruders and destroy.

So Zheng who`d walked four months

From Venice`s bazaars and left his vast ship in

A harbour there, with fine silks and rare caged creatures,

Brought his companion Map

And rested awhile beside a tumbling, hill-bound Hungarian stream.

Where blue butterflies and green aphids a-plenty played.

At last False Heath reflected upon her task and sovereigns command,

To rid the ancient hills of strange competitors.

Yet spying Map, False Heath fell instantly in love and decided to frustrate and falsify her rulers plans.

Now vowing, like her name, to deceive, she ascended and pretended

Zheng`s Map was actually simply parchment.

Her lie then became beneficial and her owners unaware, lulling Zheng into a

Deep and carefree sleep, stole Map away.

Their progeny lie long hidden in Aggtalek`s grassy

Hillocks,yet many seek to find them.

Author: Richard Muirhead.


Unknown Title

A butterfly will flutter by

It’s lovely colors catch your eye

Let it go, let it go

A heart may sigh as it goes by

and you may catch it if you try

Let it go, let it go

It has but a few days to see the world

It is so short a time since it’s wings unfurled

Give it a chance to flutter and dance

A few happy hours to sip at the flowers.

A butterfly will flutter by

It’s lovely colors catch your eye

Let it go, let it go

Author: Anonymous.

 

Shy little caterpillar

A shy little caterpillar looked at the sky.

He hugged a leaf stem and he gave a big sigh.

The sky and the stem didn’t make a reply;

He didn’t not understand and he didn’t know why.

He hid from the blue jays so quick and so sly.

He hid from the chipmunk so swift and so spry.

He hid from the ant family living close by.

“Please, tell us, caterpillar, why are you shy?

Please, little caterpillar, try not to cry.”

“I’ll try,” said the caterpillar, “but I am shy,

I would not be shy if I could just fly.

I know what I’m going to do by and by:

I will spin a fine bed and I’ll then say good-bye.”

A little wind sang him a sweet lullaby.

And when he woke up. his wet wings were dry.

The shy little caterpillar whispered, “Good-bye.”

He flew to the sky and was no longer shy,

Because he had changed to a blue butterfly!

Author: Anonymous.

 

Caterpillar to Butterfly

The sky was dark, the wind was cold,

And leaves began to fly.

A caterpillar, striped with black, said,

“I must say good-bye.”

 

“I’ll stick my bottom to a stem.

My skin is getting old.

I’ll change it for a bumpy skin,

Of brown, alas, no tips of gold.”

 

The north wind sang a lullaby,

As snug and safe she lay.

Then May came, and by and by,

Her dry skin dropped away.

 

So now a pretty insect sat,

And spread her wings to fly.

She sailed the sky on midnight wings –

A black swallowtail butterfly!

Author: Anonymous.

 

Easter

The air is like a butterfly

With frail blue wings.

The happy earth looks at the sky

And sings.

Author: Unknown

 

Mariposa

Butterflies are white and blue

In this field we wander through.

Suffer me to take your hand.

Death comes in a day or two.

 

All the things we ever knew

Will be ashes in that hour,

Mark the transient butterfly,

How he hangs upon the flower.

 

Suffer me to take your hand.

Suffer me to cherish you,

Till the dawn is in the sky,

Whether I be false or true,

Death comes in a day or two.

Author: Edna Millay

 

The Conversation.

Butterfly, Butterfly. little messenger from God,

I’m happy for the love you have shown,

You touched my heart, my soul, my mind,

But now its time that I go it alone,

I fluttered my wings,

On your heart strings,

I opened his book,

Seen that your heart shook,

I know you won’t be far away,

Stand guard as my life carries on,

Tell God if I ever need you again,

He will always let you come,

I will never be far away,

And life does carry on,

And if you ever need me,

Don’t worry, I will come,

You have touched two hearts,

With the embrace of your wings,

Memories and feelings awakened,

I seen and felt everything,

God seen two souls,

Seperated by fate,

He looked in your hearts,

And seen his mistake,

My mind and heart are synchronized,

Your magical touch has me mesmerized,

I’m falling in love and the feeling is strong,

You knew I loved him all along,

Listen with your heart,

And you will hear,

All my love around you,

Soft and clear,

I return to you my tears,

You gathered with your wings,

Turn them back to morning dew,

Your love means everything,

One tear was held back,

you must always hold it dear,

God has in his hands,

Most of your tears,

Except for the one,

Mixed with morning dew,

And dropped in the rough,

On the diamond for you,

I’ll protect it with my life,

I’ll hold it so very dear,

Loving words of devotion,

Are all he’ll ever hear,

Happiness is all he’ll know,

My love for him will always show,

Travel safe wonderous beauty,

Spread your wings, don’t let love die,

I’ll listen for your whisper in my dreams,

Telling me you’re always close by,

Before I return to the Heavens above,

I must go to him and take your love,

I’ll tell him also that I’m the blame,

And then I’ll whisper your sweet name.

Author: Donna.

 

Butterfly Smiles

Butterflies flutter,

Butterflies fly.

They put a sparkle

In your eye.

What a butterfly

And in a short while

It will give you

A butterfly smile!

Author: Bruce Larkin

 

After Wings

This was your butterfly, you see,

His fine wings made him vain:

The caterpillars crawl, but he

Passed them in rich disdain.

My pretty boy says, “Let him be

Only a worm again!”

 

O child, when things have learned to wear

Wings once, they must be fain

To keep them always high and fair:

Think of the creeping pain

Which even a butterfly must bear

To be a worm again!

By Sarah Piatt.

 

Title: Unknown

A woman is like a butterfly.

If you want her to stay near you, but fly as she should,

you must not brush the dust off her magical wings,

nor control her essence in your hand,

her beauty will be held only by a stillness and purity of heart.

Author: Andrew Hawkes

 

Title: Unknown

A handful of beautiful butterflies

Crushed in a wanting grasp

A handful fluttering in the air

Free to show their beauty and grace

Which is more beautiful?

Grasping to hold? Or to behold?

Author: Andrew Hawkes

Title: Unknown

Butterflies so still behind a pane of glass

Exhibition of beauty or travesty

Though beauty is seen, beauty not felt

It is the pain behind glass I see.

Author: Andrew Hawkes

 

From Cocoon forth a Butterfly

From cocoon forth a butterfly

As lady from her door

Emerged—a summer afternoon—

Repairing everywhere,

 

Without design, that I could trace,

Except to stray abroad

On miscellaneous enterprise

The clovers understood.

 

Her pretty parasol was seen

Contracting in a field

Where men made hay, then struggling hard

With an opposing cloud,

 

Where parties, phantom as herself,

To Nowhere seemed to go

In purposeless circumference,

As ’t were a tropic show.

 

And not withstanding bee that worked,

And flower that zealous blew,

This audience of idleness

Disdained them, from the sky,

 

Till sundown crept, a steady tide,

And men that made the hay,

And afternoon, and butterfly,

Extinguished in its sea.

Author: Emily Dickinson 

Thank you for reading these beautiful and touching butterfly poems; I hope you have enjoyed them as much as I did. Please feel free to send me your own butterfly poems if you would like to have them printed here, I am always very happy to receive submissions.

Butterfly Poems with Images

Below are some of our lovely butterfly poems embedded onto images of butterflies. Feel free to submit your own creations!

November's Butterfly Poem | ButterflyPages.com

 

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