We hover o’er the fields
Like flowers of the grass,
As on our colored wings
We pause, and poise, and pass—
Winged flowers that rise and soar
And weave a dance so fair,
And float at last away
Upon the sunny air.
We airy Butterflies
We go with summer hours,
We fairy Butterflies
We go when go the flowers.
But we shall come again
With all the merry May,
And we again shall help
To make the great world gay