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: inspirational butterfly poems, famous butterfly poems, butterfly love poems, butterfly poems about death, butterfly poems for kids and much more!
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!
Contents
Butterfly Poems:
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
A Butterfly Hovers Closely
A butterfly hovers closely
And then quickly moves away,
Swiftly going where so ever
Her heart may freely say.
A butterfly lowers and rises
With the winds’s gusty breath,
As if coupled within a dance
Of a loving tenderness.
The butterfly only knows
How it feels to have wings,
To kiss the petals of flowers
In such elegant flitterings.
To have but one moment
Of such an exquisite flight,
Would be like a dream
Where all seems so right.
Author: Unknown
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
The example
Here’s an example from
A Butterfly;
That on a rough, hard rock
Happy can lie;
Friendless and all alone
On this unsweetened stone.
Now let my bed be hard,
No care take I;
I’ll make my joy like this
Small Butterfly;
Whose happy heart has power
To make a stone a flower.
Author: William H. Davies. Louis Untermeyer
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
Butterflies, Oh, Butterflies
Butterflies, Oh, Butterflies,
Your beauty is so rare.
Butterflies, Oh, butterflies,
How could anyone dare.
to catch you and to hold you
against your solemn will?
They should just admire you
and let you have your fill.
of flitting here and flitting there,
gathering up your daily fare
of nectars from the flowers bright,
from early morning until night.
Butterflies, beautiful butterflies,
with so many colours rare,
it hurts my heart when one dies,
Yet, does anyone truly care?
For butterflies, butterflies,
you represent new birth,
from chrysalis until you die,
you beautify the earth.
thank you, lovely butterflies.
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 reveler of the joyous earth!
One drop of honey gives satiety;
A second drought 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
Butterfly In The Wind Poem
A child is……..
A butterfly in the wind,
Some can fly higher than others;
but each one flies the best it can.
Why compare one against the other?
Each one is different!
Each one is special!
Each one is beautiful!
Author: Unknown
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
Butterflies
Butterflies go fluttering by
On colored wings that catch the eye.
On wings of orange, and silvery blue,
On wings of golden yellow, too.
Butterflies float in the air,
Making their homes most anywhere:
The rainforest, field, and prairie land,
On mountaintops, and desert sand.
If winter brings the cold and snow,
To warmer climates, off they go!
Returning home the following spring,
Beautiful butterflies on the wing!
Author: Unknown
Legend of the Butterfly
Once as a child many years ago…
on a balmy summer’s eve.
I sat in the yard at my Mother’s side…
and a butterfly lit at my sleeve.
“It’s a sign of good luck”, my Mother said.
As the butterfly stayed at my arm…
“It’s a symbol of all the beauty in life.
Make sure you do it no harm.”
First butterflies are eggs and after they hatch…
they see that their life’s just beginning.
They’re content with their lot in life,
so, they go out on a limb and start spinning.
They stay out awhile in a magic cocoon….
then emerge like flowers in spring.
Then they share the story of their victory and success…
through each of the colors of their wings.
The gold in their wings is the”Golden Rule”…
To follow that is a must.
The blue….That means true blue.
Always be someone people can trust.
The green of the tip of their wing
is saying Stay green, and you’ll always grow.
The silver is the lining in the clouds of doubt…
that you must look for as you go through life.
Butterflies bend with the wind, it’s true.
Still they get where they want to go.
They arrive by persistence through their own insistence…
A lesson more people should know.
Sought and valued by the whole human race…
For their beauty, tenacity and charm.
If a butterfly ever chances to stay at your sleeve…
remember, my friend, don’t fight it, but,
learn all you can from the butterfly clan.
And you too, may become a rare item.
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 butterfly
I am not what I was yesterday,
God knows my name.
I am made in a smooth and beautiful way,
And full of flame.
The color of corn are my pretty wings,
My flower is blue.
I kiss its topmost pearl, it swings
And I swing too.
I dance above the tawny grass
In the sunny air,
So tantalized to have to pass
Love everywhere
O Earth, O Sky, you are mine to roam
In liberty.
I am the soul and I have no home,
Take care of me.
For double I drift through a double world
Of spirit and sense;
I and my symbol together whirled
From who knows whence?
There ’s a tiny weed, God knows what good,—
It sits in the moss.
Its wings are heavy and spotted with blood
Across and across.
I sometimes settle a moment there,
And I am so sweet,
That what it lacks of the glad and fair
I fill complete.
The little white moon was once like me;
But her wings are one.
Or perhaps they closëd together be
As she swings in the sun.
When the clovers close their three green wings
Just as I do,
I creep to the primrose heart of things,
And close mine, too.
And then wide opens the candid night,
Serene and intense;
For she has, instead of love and light,
God’s confidence.
And I watch that other butterfly,
The one-winged moon,
Till, drunk with sweets in which I lie,
I dream and swoon.
And then when I to three days grow,
I find out pain.
For swift there comes an ache,—I know
That I am twain.
And nevermore can I be one
In liberty.
O Earth, O Sky, your use in done,
Take care of me.
Author: Alice Archer
Two butterflies went out at noon
Two butterflies went out at noon
And waltzed above a stream,
Then stepped straight through the firmament
And rested on a beam;
And then together bore away
Upon a shining sea,
Though never yet, in any port,
Their coming mentioned be.
If spoken by the distant bird,
If met in ether sea
By frigate or by merchantman,
Report was not to me.
Author: Emily Dickinson
A Symbol of Love
A butterfly lights beside us like a sunbeam
and for a brief moment, its glory and beauty
belong to our world.
But then it flies again,
And though we wish it could have stayed…
We feel lucky to have seen it.
Author: Unknown
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.
Butterfly Laughter
In the middle of our porridge plates
There was a blue butterfly painted
And each morning we tried who should reach the
butterfly first.
Then the Grandmother said: “Do not eat the poor
butterfly.”
That made us laugh.
Always she said it and always it started us laughing.
It seemed such a sweet little joke.
I was certain that one fine morning
The butterfly would fly out of our plates,
Laughing the teeniest laugh in the world,
And perch on the Grandmother’s lap.
Author: Katherine Mansfield
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.
A Luminous Butterfly
Wonder winged luminous in my eyes.
Elegance sheer I perceive and prize
On a flower who plays the sun of skies.
What psyche fair in colors does rise
In flight of swerve and curve amid ease?
It my eyes trail wherever to please
Me to relish harmony it frees
Through me as my heart awes in its choice.
My heart sings of its hush to rejoice
On its coaxing wings of love as its voice
Drenched in rhythm to flutter with grace,
Sends its charm my ardor does embrace.
Seeming emitted from its wings’ base,
Are bubbles leaping for bliss my eyes face.
Bliss viewed from its pride glowing in flight.
What muse fueled it to fill the air with light?
Air groomed as spanking breeze to incite
Scenery refreshed with humor bright
Like the ocean of tune in my thought,
Alp’s summit in my spirit it wrought,
Joy in its ripened bloom I have sought.
Gladness indispensable is found,
As the place whole revolving around
Me glistens with colors bright abound.
How the colors blaze as bright as gold,
My survey of such is turning bold.
Of my being it inclines to mold,
Description is arduous to be told.
Influences me its aplomb calm,
To rise from seat to be nigh its charm.
Magnetized I extend my right arm
To induce it to float in my palm.
Tenderness on my palm it does stream,
Of experience this touch is a dream.
Filled is my soul with the summer’s gleam,
Delectation my soul such will own.
Splendid grandeur in its beam is shown.
Spring of roses in my heart is grown.
Lavishing me with boon stark like the sun
In its giving of joy firm to run.
What enthusiasm star-like in one,
Who has fetched at its very best, fun.
Author: Obinna Kenechukwu Eruchie
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
A Butterfly Lights Beside Us
A butterfly lights beside us, like a sunbeam…
and for a brief moment it’s glory
and beauty belong to our world…
but then it flies on again, and although
we wish it could have stayed,
we are so thankful to have seen it at all.
Author: Unknown
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!
Author: Sarah Piatt.
Learn to Fly
Like a butterfly emerges
And unfolds its graceful wings,
A marriage grows and it develops
With the love each partner brings.
Your flight through life together
Is what you make it, so reach high
Spread your wings and learn to soar
As if with wings of a butterfly
Share together life’s great adventure
Now the two of you are one
Shower your lover with butterfly kisses
Your infinite journey has just begun
Be a lover, friend and playmate
Learn to listen, laugh and cry
God has given you your wings,
But, you teach each other how to fly.
Author: Larry James
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
My Butterfly
Thine emulous fond flowers are dead, too,
And the daft sun-assaulter, he
That frightened thee so oft, is fled or dead:
Save only me
(Nor is it sad to thee!)
Save only me
There is none left to mourn thee in the fields.
The gray grass is scarce dappled with the snow;
Its two banks have not shut upon the river;
But it is long ago—
It seems forever—
Since first I saw thee glance,
With all thy dazzling other ones,
In airy dalliance,
Precipitate in love,
Tossed, tangled, whirled and whirled above,
Like a limp rose-wreath in a fairy dance.
When that was, the soft mist
Of my regret hung not on all the land,
And I was glad for thee,
And glad for me, I wist.
Thou didst not know, who tottered, wandering on high,
That fate had made thee for the pleasure of the wind,
With those great careless wings,
Nor yet did I.
And there were other things:
It seemed God let thee flutter from his gentle clasp:
Then fearful he had let thee win
Too far beyond him to be gathered in,
Santched thee, o’ereager, with ungentle gasp.
Ah! I remember me
How once conspiracy was rife
Against my life—
The languor of it and the dreaming fond;
Surging, the grasses dizzied me of thought,
The breeze three odors brought,
And a gem-flower waved in a wand!
Then when I was distraught
And could not speak,
Sidelong, full on my cheek,
What should that reckless zephyr fling
But the wild touch of thy dye-dusty wing!
I found that wing broken today!
For thou art dead, I said,
And the strange birds say.
I found it with the withered leaves
Under the eaves.
Author: Robert Frost (1874-1963). Frost was an American poet born in San Francisco.
Chuang Tzu And The Butterfly
Chuang Tzu in dream became a butterfly,
And the butterfly became Chuang Tzu at waking.
Which was the real—the butterfly or the man ?
Who can tell the end of the endless changes of things?
The water that flows into the depth of the distant sea
Returns anon to the shallows of a transparent stream.
The man, raising melons outside the green gate of the city,
Was once the Prince of the East Hill.
So must rank and riches vanish.
You know it, still you toil and toil,—what for?
Author: Li Po (a.k.a. Li Bai). Po was an 8th century Chinese poet who spent most of his life walking along the Yangtze River Valley.
The Genesis Of The Butterfly
The dawn is smiling on the dew that covers
The tearful roses; lo, the little lovers
That kiss the buds, and all the flutterings
In jasmine bloom, and privet, of white wings,
That go and come, and fly, and peep and hide,
With muffled music, murmured far and wide.
Ah, the Spring time, when we think of all the lays
That dreamy lovers send to dreamy mays,
Of the fond hearts within a billet bound,
Of all the soft silk paper that pens wound,
The messages of love that mortals write
Filled with intoxication of delight,
Written in April and before the May time
Shredded and flown, playthings for the wind’s playtime,
We dream that all white butterflies above,
Who seek through clouds or waters souls to love,
And leave their lady mistress in despair,
To flit to flowers, as kinder and more fair,
Are but torn love-letters, that through the skies
Flutter, and float, and change to butterflies.
Author: Victor Hugo (1802-1885)
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!
