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 wings 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.

William Wordsworth

Fly Away, Fly Away Over the Sea

Fly away, fly away over the sea,

Sun-loving swallow, for summer, is done;

Come again, come again, come back to me,

Bringing the summer and bringing the sun