Butterflies John Davidson

At sixteen years she knew no care; How could she, sweet and pure as light? And there persued her everywhere Butterflies all white. A lover looked. She dropped her eyes That glowed like pansies wet with dew; And lo, there came from out the skies Butterflies all blue.

Before she guessed her heart was gone; The tale of love was swiftly told; And all about her wheeled and shone Butterflies all gold. Then he forsook her one fine morn; She wept and sobbed, "Oh, love, come back!" There only came to her forlorn Butterflies all black.

John Davidson

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